


May the Best

by Blaithin



Series: Memory and Lies [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bucky Barnes Has Panic Attacks, Child Abuse, Dead Parents, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Tony, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Mystery, Physical Disability, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, heavy petting between teenagers, unrequited Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-10-15 06:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 41,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17524013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blaithin/pseuds/Blaithin
Summary: A year ago Bucky lost his arm and his memory in a motorbike accident. Somehow his journey back to normality involves pretending to date the rich and troubled Tony Stark.(loosely, so loosely, inspired by to all the boys I’ve ever loved with a lot more angst)





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky was angry.

He was always angry these days. The feeling was a hot itching madness that churned under his skin. He burned with it, his teeth clenched, his muscles screaming after hours held in tension,

And Brock Rumlock seemed determined to break any sort of control he had.

Bucky punched his hands into the pockets of his hoodies, fingers curled into fists. He could imagine himself letting go, swinging up and punching Brock’s smug, sneering mouth.

Brock, unaware of how close Bucky was to knocking him down, rocked back drunkenly on his heels, gesturing wildly. Liquid sloshed out of his red cup, drops flying out to land on Bucky’s cheek. Bucky breathed in slowly through his nose, almost deaf due to the roaring inside his skull.

“Barnes! Nice to see you’re all in one piece.” Brock’s eyes dropped to Bucky’s covered right arm. Even with his hoodie, the stiff, unnatural, metal edges of his prosthetic were obvious. Brock snorted, “Well almost one piece.”

Bucky surged forward. The movement sent Brock stumbling backward, caught off guard by the sudden invasion of his space. He staggered and scowled, his eyes narrowed, hazy and bloodshot.

“Buck!”

Steve was stood at the centre of the party, illuminate gold and silver by the flickering bonfire as he waved his arms to get Bucky’s attention. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the small boy, drowned in the Bucky’s oversized coat.

Beside him, Brock snorted, “Still hanging around with that weirdo then?”

“Don’t talk about him.” Bucky hissed, snapping back to Brock. Brock was visibly wobbling now, eyes unfocused as he stepped closer to Bucky. Repulsion and irritation sizzled through Bucky at the sight.

“You know Barnes, you’re different,” Brock said, flicking the dangling cords from Bucky’s hoodie. “Did you scramble your brains when you lost your arm?”  
Bucky’s fist landed solidly on Brock’s nose, bone-crunching beneath his fingers. Brock crumpled to the ground, cursing and heaving in pain. Bucky stepped over him, energy thrumming through him.

“Bucky!”

The red mist that had swallowed Bucky evaporated slowly at the sound of his name and Bucky was suddenly aware of the lull in sound. Behind him the party had ground to a halt and Bucky could feel the eyes of the party goers on him, judging as they whispered to their friends.

Bucky could imagine what they were saying, James Barnes was back and he had already broken the nose of the star quarterback.

Bucky stuffed his hands back into his hoodie, ducked his head and strode away. He didn’t run but it was undeniably a retreat.

He didn’t stop until the party was a distant flicker of lights and sounds on the horizon. Bucky crouched down, dropping his head into his hands. He had found the shadowy edges of the woodland, far enough away from the illicit high school party to avoid any wandering partygoers.

“To be fair, I think its fairly common to punch Brock Rumlow when you first meet him.”

Bucky glanced up to see Steve standing above him. He was smiling but the skin around his eyes was tight, worried. Bucky was getting really of people looking at him like that.

“Coming here was a mistake.”

“Leaving you with Rumlow was a mistake,” Steve retorted. He dropped to the ground next to Bucky, sitting close enough that their shoulders pressed together. “And that one’s on me.”

“He knew there was something wrong with me. He asked if I had scrambled my brains. I just got so mad.”

Steve didn’t say anything. Pressed up against him, Bucky could hear the faint rattle in Steve’s chest. He could feel the way Steve’s chest was over expanding, heaving. Bucky hadn’t thought about how Steve had found him so quickly; he must have run flat out to catch up.

“Take your inhaler,” Bucky ordered, and Steve smiled weakly, digging through his clothes to comply.

“You haven’t changed that much,” Steve told him after a moment. “You always used to tell me to take my inhaler and you always gave me your jacket when I was too cold.”

Bucky snorted, “How long I have been doing that for?”

“Since we were toddlers.”

“Then why haven’t you learned to bring a coat yet?” Bucky demanded and snagged Steve around the neck, rubbing his knuckles into the boy’s hair. Steve choked with laughter, sharp elbows flailing into Bucky’s face.

“Mercy! Mercy”

Bucky let Steve go and a moment of perfect, happy silence strung out between them. Steve’s body was a bony comma curved against his and the lights from the party crackled before them, illuminating the dark, cloudy sky. Bucky felt the restless, anxious part of himself simmer down and wished that they could stay like this forever, just him and Steve. No crying parents or prodding doctors or cruel schoolmates.

A twig snapping behind them was all the warning they got.

“Woo!” A male voice called out in surprise. He was walking fast, running right over Steve’s outstretched legs. His arms flailed and a wild arm slapped Bucky around the head. The boy stumbled onwards, cursing as he tried to find his footing and coming to a wobbly stop before them.

Bucky jumped to his feet, hands curling up at his side, his teeth bared. For a moment he thought it was Brock but a second glance at the figure showed the boy was too young, too small to be Rumlow.

The boy held his hands up at the expression on Bucky’s face. His eyes were huge, luminous despite the darkness. He seemed amused by the entire affair. “Hey, at least half of this unexpected encounter is on you two – sitting in the dark in black clothing.”

“We wanted some privacy.”

“Uh huh.” The boy said in a way that Bucky suspected meant he was wiggling his eyebrows.

“Not like –”

“I’m not judging! Whatever floats your boat, man. Just be careful of frostbite, some things don’t recover from that!”

“We’re not –” But the boy was already stumbling off, waving lazily behind his back.

“Who the hell was that?” Bucky demanded, staring at the wavering figure.

“Oh, that was Tony Stark,” Steve said.

There was something in Steve’s voice, a note of flatness that Bucky hadn’t heard yet. He glanced down at the boy, but it was too dark to make out the expression on his face.

“Do I know him?”

“Oh, No. He transferred just before your accident, I don’t think you ever met him.”

“Huh…”

“Let’s go home. I’m freezing.” Steve said, getting to his feet.

Bucky glanced back towards the party. Tony was a tiny, barely distinguishable dark figure in the distance. The golden glow of the party haloed him as he stretched out his arms, a showman making an entrance.

“Didn’t you want to go to this party?” Bucky asked. The party, a prelude to the school year starting, had been Steve’s idea. A soft way of introducing Bucky back to his schoolmates and a way of filling him in on the people he was meant to know but could no longer remember.

“Nah, I only come to hang with my friend and here you are.”

Bucky turned away from Tony’s dramatic outline and smiled down at Steve. He nudged the shorter boy, unable to quite express the churn of relief and gratitude he felt as having Steve as his friend.

“Alright then, let’s go. Hopefully, Brock won’t remember that I punched him.”

* * *

 

It had been near Christmas when Bucky had had his accident.

Not that Bucky remembered much about it, just flashes of snow and falling, of pain.

His first proper memory was of waking up in the ER. He remembered the smell the most, the overpowering scent of disinfection, the tang of blood and burning skin. He remembered pain, unbearable, impossible agony radiating from his arm. He had looked over, trying to see what was hurting. Hanging from his shoulder was a mangled, bloody mess, unidentifiable as an arm.

There had been a flurry of activity around him, hands holding him down, pinning him still as he tried to fight, to get away. They had injected him, to put him under, but those few seconds had seemed to string out for infinity. Never-ending moments of pain and panic and confusion.

Bucky had known what they would do, he had heard them say amputation and he had tried to protest to beg them not to. But his throat was raw and the anaesthesia made his tongue numb.

His arm had been amputated, but that wasn’t what the doctors were most concerned about when he’d woken up. In his accident, he had hit his head and there was swelling on his brain. Bucky didn’t understand the technical terms, but he did realise that his memories weren’t right. He hadn’t recognised his family, he hadn’t recognised Steve.

For months Bucky had been confined to the hospital, carefully monitored and put through rehab for both his physical and mental injuries. Physically he had made an amazing, unpredicted recovery and some rich businessman had heard of his accident and had paid for him to be fitted with the state-of-the-art SHIELD prosthetics.

But his mind.

It had been eight months and Bucky’s memories were still half hazy, like a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing. He could remember people but rarely the times he had spent with them. The doctors treated Bucky like a science project, an interesting specimen they had found and captured. The last visit had resulted in a memory journal where Bucky was meant to write anything new he remembered but Bucky had stopped regaining memories months ago and to fill the blank pages Bucky had just started writing about the people around him.

He wrote about how his mother cried at night and how he hated the pity in her eyes. He wrote about Steve, wrote about how they were best friends but how sometimes he looked at Steve and wanted more than friendship and he wondered if he had always felt this way or if it was just after the accident. He wrote about his nightmares of his amputation, the panic attacks he had been having, how he sometimes looked at his metal prosthetic and got so mad that he wanted to tear the world apart.

Steve was too polite to say anything but Bucky had figured out he hadn’t been this angry before the accident. People had described him as carefree, as charming. Now they were wary,

Bucky was getting tired of feeling like he was somehow failing to be himself. 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Brock did, in fact, remember that Bucky had punched him.

That in itself would not have been that much of a problem; Steve hadn’t been exaggerating when he had said a lot of people punched Brock when they first met him.

The issue was that a lot of other people remembered that Bucky had punched Brock. They also remembered the way Brock had cried and called his parents to pick him up and get his broken nose set. Brock’s mother, realising that Brock was at a party with underage drinking had called the police. And the police has broken up the first party of the year before 10pm and sent angry little shockwaves through the community’s parents.

Brock had started the school year with a swollen face, hated by most of the student body. And so, he had turned his vengeful sights on Bucky.

It had been two weeks since the beginning of the semester and Bucky was getting pretty sick of being shoved in the hallways, of finding tacks slotted through the grates of his locker, of Brock spilling drinks and stealing his belongings.

The only reason Bucky hadn’t expressed his displeasure directly to Brock was that Brock was the type of snake to turn his sights on an easier target at the first sign of confrontation. And Steve, short, skinny Steve, was exactly the type of target Bucky didn’t want Brock noticing. Bucky figured Brock would get bored soon enough, he just to keep calm and wait it out.

Keeping calm was a lot easier when Brock wasn’t in his general vicinity, however.

Brock was staring at him in the bathroom mirror, his handsome face twisting into a familiar cruel sneer as he met Bucky’s eyes. He sniffed, making of show of adjusting himself and pulling up his zipper, hip jutted out.

Bucky hadn’t realised anyone else was in the school bathroom and felt tense at the knowing, eager look on Brock’s face. Brock smiled amused by Bucky’s frozen expression and stepped up next to him by the sinks. The sound of water hitting porcelain filled the silence between them.

“You know Barnes,” Brock said slowly, “I always knew you were a freak. but I didn’t think you’d be that much of creep to be panting after your best friend. Just imagine how Rogers will feel?”

Bucky sucked in a harsh, shocked breath, twisting to face the other boy, “What the fuck – ” 

Brock was holding a notebook, waving it mockingly in front of Bucky. “You really shouldn’t leave such personal things just lying around. Anyone could just take it.”

It was Bucky’s memory journal, the one the doctor wanted him to keep. The one in which he had started to note down his anger and frustration, his confusion over his feelings for Steve.

Familiar, hot red rage filled him and Bucky snarled, launching himself at Rumlow. He grabbed the boy by his collar and strode forward, forcing them both to the other side of the room and slamming Brock against the tiled wall.

Brock was laughing even as Bucky choked him. His sneer victorious.

“We are done with whatever ever game you are playing. From now on you leave me alone,” Bucky snarled and dropped Brock, ripping the book out of his hands.

Brock slid to the ground, uncaring of the wet tiles. He was still smiling, vicious pleased with himself. “Aren’t you worried what Steve will think?” he asked.

Bucky paused, the memory journal bending in his hands. “Are you going to tell him?”

“You could beg me not to?” Brock raised an eyebrow, the edges of mouth curled up in delight, “Please, feel free to get on your knees.”

“Fuck off,” Bucky snarled, struggling to control the urge to punch Brock’s nose a second time.

With one final bark of laughter, Brock got slowly to his feet, brushing off his trousers. “It was just a thought, Barnes. Looks like today is going to be an interesting one for you.” And with that he was gone, swaggering out the bathroom.

Bucky felt his stomach twist and turned back to look at himself in the grease smeared bathroom mirror. His eyes were wild in his face, his hair had escaped the ponytail he’d dragged it into that morning and fell in frizzy strands around his colourless cheeks. He looked frayed, worn out already.

Bucky’s initial wave of anger had curdled into something that felt a lot like fear, churning up his insides. What if Brock had copies of his journal? What if Steve believed him? He and Steve had worked hard to grow their fragile friendship after Bucky’s accident.  Not helped by Bucky’s memory loss or his ‘anger issues’. Bucky wasn’t sure they could survive something like this.

With a bitten back snarl of anger, Bucky slammed his fist into his reflection, his metal fingers jolted at the force and the mirror fractured, sending a spiderweb of cracks across the reflective surface.

* * *

 

Bucky didn’t often think he was a coward but he decided to hide and put off the inevitable horrible confrontation with Steve for as long as he could.

He picked the big flat roof of the science building as his hiding spot. Mostly because it was off limits to students and because Steve was a stickler for rules (unless he decided the rules were wrong). Bucky figured he could hide out there until at least the end of lunch without having to face his best friend or anyone else.

“So, who are you hiding from?”

Bucky spun around to see a slender figure lounging by the railings, watching him. Tony Stark tilted his head slowly, bird-like, as Bucky approached him. His dark eyes were bored and his hair was trailing against his sharp cheekbones in small untamed, curls, teased by the wind. Bucky would have considered Tony attractive if not for the deep purple circles pressed beneath his eyes and the dark scab that was sliced across his swollen bottom lip.

Bucky had only caught a glimpse of the boy in the woods, a half-hidden mystery in the darkness. They hadn’t crossed paths since that night but it was like the boy had infiltrated every aspect of the school. Bucky’s peers, his teachers talked about Tony constantly; he seemed to have an unparalleled ability to intrigue and infuriate people. Maybe mostly infuriate. Part of Tony’s infamy came from his millionaire father and part of it came from his drunken, lecherous exploits in the previous year. Part of Bucky wished he'd been there to see it, he had the feeling it would have amused him. Steve had mentioned that Tony was a spoiled, selfish brat and then clammed up so hard on the subject Bucky hadn’t pushed him any further.

“I’m just getting some air,” Bucky said finally, hands back in the pockets of his hoodie.

Tony snorted. “Plenty of air around, you don’t need to come into my space.”

“Oh, so the whole roof is yours now?” Bucky snipped back automatically, still running tense with irritation from his confrontation with Rumlow.

“Whole building actually: it has my name on it.” Tony gestured lazily. This was actually true. They were on the roof of the Stark Science building. A state-of-the-art science lab that had been offered to bribe the principle into taking Tony after he was expelled from his last school (or so the rumours went).

“I think you’re mixing yourself up with your daddy.”

“Perish the thought.” 

Bucky was startled by the snort of laughter that escaped him and he glanced over to see Tony’s lips twitching in amusement. Tony had turned way, twisting so he could curl his body lazily into the railing and Bucky found his eyes tracing the straight, delicate lines of Tony’s profile, catching on the heavy sweep of dark lashes that brushed Tony’s cheeks as he blinked.

Bucky took a step forward until they were stood shoulder to shoulder, and looked down at the small campus below. “So why are you hiding out here?”

“I just like to be alone,” Tony said, his dark eyes flicked to look at Bucky. “The real question here, is why you’re alone and not stalking Steve Rogers’ shadow? Is he who you’re hiding from?”

“I’m not always with Steve.” Bucky snapped defensively. Tony’s gaze was piercing, knowing and Bucky felt a flare of heat rush across his cheeks.

Bucky looked away from Tony, unable to meet his gaze and looked back down at the campus just in time to see Steve’s golden head wander by. Steve was walking with purpose and when he titled his head, Bucky could see the knotted frown forming across his forehead. Bucky felt his breath catch; Rumlow must have told him already. Steve was looking for Bucky, probably hoping that Bucky would deny everything.

“Shit.”

As if he had heard him, Steve paused and turned, his gaze climbing up the science building.

Panic flared within Bucky. Steve would see him and be up on the roof within minutes, demanding to know if Brock was lying and Bucky didn’t think he would be able to deny it. He suspected it would be all over his face. Steve had been his best friend, taking care of him since his accident; he would hate Bucky once he realised what Bucky had twisted their friendship into.

“Barnes, you ok?”

Bucky glanced over to see Tony peering at him. The other boy had uncurled from around the railing and was leaning towards him, hand outstretched and hovering awkwardly between them. From down below Bucky could feel Steve’s gaze burning into him. Bucky lunged. He grabbed Tony’s face and crushed their lips together. Tony made a squawking noise of surprise, arms flailing.

Bucky was pressing his mouth against Tony’s too hard for it to be considered a kiss, he could hear the rumble of discomfort vibrating behind Tony’s teeth and remembered the scabbed-over-cut on Tony’s bruised bottom lip. He was probably hurting the other boy.

Just as Bucky was about to pull away, Tony went soft and limp in arms and his mouth parted with a small sigh. And then they were kissing. Properly kissing. Tony’s tongue was in his mouth and Bucky’s arm was curling around Tony’s slender back, drawing him close. Familiar heat pooled in his stomach and the panic that had engulfed him faded away, drowning in the wordless desire for more.

The moment ended abruptly and they pulled away from each other. Tony’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes big in his face, making him look young and vulnerable for a moment. Then Tony’s gaze flicked downwards and snagged on Steve Roger walking away, the back of his neck red.

Tony laughed, the sound as sharp as glass. “Oh, so that’s why you’re not with Rogers today?”

“No, it's not…”

Tony licked his lips, the scab on his mouth had opened up and the movement left a red smear in its wake. Bucky turned away, unable to look Tony’s swollen, cherry red mouth.

Before he could leave, Tony had reached out and grabbed his arm, fingers biting into his skin.

“I deserve an explanation,” he demanded.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. “Brock Rumlow was going to tell Steve about me.”

Tony rolled his eyes, dropping Bucky’s arm abruptly. Bucky got the distinct impression he had bored Tony, disappointed him somehow. “I’m fairly sure Rogers isn’t homophobic and even if he was, your plan for sucking the life out of me won’t have helped on that front.”

“No, he was going to tell Steve I liked him. It would have ruined our friendship, I don’t want Steve to know.” Bucky’s eyes were back on Tony’s bruised mouth. The cut had stopped bleeding but Bucky couldn’t’ stop looking, his fingers itched to touch. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to attack you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Tony rolled his eyes again, the boredom obvious on his face. “You were thinking that maybe if Steve saw you with me, he wouldn’t believe Brock. Or at the very least wouldn’t bring it up with you.”

“I guess…”

“Well, it wasn’t a completely stupid idea.”

“Huh?”

Tony was resting against the barrier lazily again, his tongue poking absently at the cut on his lip. “Even if he does believe Rumlow, Rogers isn’t going to ask you if you like him if he sees you kissing someone else, is he?”

Bucky made a noise of agreement, his mind throwing up hazy memories of how sensitive Steve was to his friends. A half-drawn idea flitted in his head.

“Of course, you can’t hide out here kissing me forever.” Tony finished, “good luck, I guess.”

“Wait.” Bucky grabbed Tony’s arm, a reverse of their conversation from moments ago. Tony didn’t seem surprised, his eyebrows raising expectantly.

“You’re right.”

“I always am, but what exactly are you referring to again?”

“Steve won’t question me if he thinks I’m dating someone else. He’s too polite for that. And he just saw us kissing.”

“So?”

“So, if he thinks we’re seeing each other he’ll think Brock is lying and then our friendship will be fine.”

Tony’s mouth opened and he seemed to struggle for a moment before reply. “And why would I pretend that we were dating?”

“You didn’t exactly seem to mind kissing me two minutes ago.”

As soon as Bucky said it, he realised it the wrong thing to say. Tony’s eyes went hard and his mouth thinned angrily. He scrambled for something else to say, holding on to Tony’s arm tighter as the boy made to throw him off.

“And I’ll do something for you in return, whatever you want. You only have to go along with it for a little while, just until Steve forgets. I could do your homework.”

“Like I’d want you to do my homework, you do realise I’m a genius right?” Tony twisted, trying to shake Bucky off. It was impossible with Bucky’s metal arm but Tony carried on stubbornly, trying to work his fingers in between the metal joints. In the distance, the school bell rang, signalling the end of lunch break.

“Tony please.”

Tony paused, his eyes darting around Bucky’s face. He stopped squirming, going still in Bucky’s hold and touched his tongue to the tender edges of his cut bottom lip one again before sighing. “Fine.” Bucky made a noise of surprised relief, “But, but you have to give me a lift to and from school every day.”

“Yes, of course. Anything” Bucky was grinning down at Tony, relief making him feel light headed. This might work.

“And no more kissing me.”

With one hard shove, Tony detangled himself from Bucky and stalked off, his bag slung over his shoulder and muttering under his breath.

* * *

 

Bucky had imagined how the conversation with Steve would go a hundred times before he actually found him at the end of the day. He was jittery as he approached the blonde, finding his tongue had grown clumsy in his mouth.

“Hey, Steve,”

Steve turned around at the sound of his voice, a strange look passing like a dark cloud over his features. Most people looked at Steve and just saw his lack of height and his scrawniness but there a classic, handsomeness in the straight, strong lines of his jaw, an attesting quality to his perfectly sky-blue eyes.

“Oh, hey Buck, I didn’t see you at lunch today? Everything OK?”

Bucky felt a wave of affection for him and nodded, stuffing his hands into his jeans with forced casualness, “Actually there is something I want to talk to you about.”

The muscles in Steve’s jaw tightened but he forced a smile in Bucky’s direction. “Er, yeah of course. You know we can talk about anything.”

“It’s about Tony.” Bucky blurted, all his careful conversation plans evaporating.

Steve stumbled, righting himself quickly and looking at Bucky, his hair ruffled and his eyes round in confusion. “Tony?”

“Stark, I know you saw us today.”

“Oh well…”

“We’re kind of dating.”

“Oh.” Steve turned away, his expression a strange confused mix. But he wasn’t looking at Bucky in disgust or hatred so Bucky ploughed on.

“I know this seems a bit out the blue.”

“Yeah, a bit” Steve muttered, his eyebrows drawing together.

“But I know you don’t really like him and I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Oh.” Steve turned to face Bucky, his eyes bright and serious, “I’m sorry Buck. I never wanted you to think you had hide things for me. I might not be Tony’s biggest fan but if you like him then I’m sure he’s great.”

Bucky smiled, the knot Bucky had been carrying in his chest since his run in with Rumlow finally easing. Steve had shown himself to be pretty much the perfect friend, he didn’t know why had worried so much. “Thanks, Steve, you’re a good friend.”

“I’m your best friend, you punk.” Steve retorted and dug his elbow into Bucky’s side. For a moment, Bucky had a shadowy memory of Steve doing this when they were kids. Back then Steve had been even smaller and skinnier and his elbows had been like knives. Bucky pushed him back and they quickly fell into a friendly tussle, pushing each other across the campus.

“It’s funny,” Steve said breathlessly as they untangled themselves from each other.

“What is?”

“Oh, just something Rumlow said this morning?”

“What did he say?” Bucky asked, forcing his voice to remain casual.

“Oh nothing, just Brock trying to make trouble as usual.” Steve smiled and came to a stop, “I see Tony’s waiting for you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before Bucky could respond, Steve was gone, striding away to his own car. Bucky stared after him for a second before turning back to his own car. Sure enough, Tony was leaning casually against the passenger side, tapping away furiously at his phone, his face covered by a pair of huge sunglasses.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asked, stalking up to the smaller boy.

Tony met his eyes over the top of his ridiculous sunglasses, “You’re giving me a lift remember?”

“I didn’t realise we were starting today?.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “You just told Steve you were dating me, right? Therefore, our deal has already started. Giving me a ride is part of the deal? Or do you want to call it off?”

“No, no,” Bucky said quickly. He rubbed at his neck and sighed, “fine get in.”

Tony smiled at him sweetly and hopped into the passenger seat. By the time Bucky had walked around the vehicle and got into his car, Tony had his feet up on the dashboard. Bucky pushed them off abruptly and rapped the boy hard on the head.

“Show some respect.”

Tony glanced around, his eyes lingering on the dusty floors and threadbare seats. His mouth opened to make a comment but a warning growl from Bucky made him think twice and he gave a huff and settled back into the seat.

They drove in silence, Tony providing direction when needed. Bucky had rarely driven this way before and he found his eyes wandering as the houses got bigger and the roads quieter and neater. This was nothing like the lower middle-class suburbs where he and Steve lived.

“Buses don’t go this way,” Tony explained lazily, his eyes still locked on his phone. At some point, his feet had made their way back up onto dashboard and he lazed like a king, uncaring of the glare Bucky sent him, “I guess they assume everyone around here has a car or a driver.”

“Don’t you have a driver?” Bucky asked as Tony gestured him to pull over. The house they had parked in front of was the biggest one Bucky had seen so far: a red brick and marble structure at the end of a long driveway. A gleaming archway with the word STARK stood as wide as two of Bucky’s cars.

“I do. He’s called James Barnes” Tony’s mouth twisted, his teeth flashing. “Don’t be late tomorrow, I have an early chem class.”

Bucky watched as Tony slipped out the car, and started down the long winding driveway. Steve was right, Tony was a spoiled rich kid. Bucky swung his car around hard and drove away, wanting to get far away from the upper-class neighbour and the lingering presence of Tony Stark.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Over the next week, Bucky only saw Tony on their journeys to and from school. Despite his initial apprehension, Tony was for the most part an easy car guest. He complained and talked a lot but Bucky quickly realised that Tony didn’t expect Bucky to listen or respond and the constant monologuing was more of a sign of his overactive mind than an indication of anything he actually meant.

The only problem was that in order to pick Tony up, Bucky had to leave his house 40 minutes early, something his mother noticed straight away and queried worriedly. He waved her off awkwardly saying that he was just giving a lift to a friend who didn’t have a car.

His mother looked at him suspiciously, her gaze lingering on the metal arm at his side as she bit down on whatever it was she so obviously wanted to say. Bucky felt himself flush with irritation. Since his accident, it was like everyone was walking on eggshells around him, too kind, too pitying for any interaction to feel genuine. Bucky had easily managed to piece together that he’d been a little wild before the accident. He vaguely remembered the feeling of riding a motorbike, driving too fast, taking corners too wide. He wondered if his accident had been his fault, if he had been driving dangerously. When he’s asked, everyone just said they didn’t know and told him not to worry. But sometimes they looked at him like that, suspicious, worried. It made Bucky feel like they were keeping things from him.  It was infuriating, claustrophobic.

He left without a word and if he lashed out at Tony, the other boy didn’t notice.

Something that became abundantly clear from their first-morning journey was that Tony was awake in name only in the mornings. Half the time he fell back asleep on the ride to school, the other half he peered mutely out the window, his eyes swollen and purple with exhaustion.

“Why don’t you just go to bed earlier?” Bucky asked as Tony fumbled his seatbelt for the third time. Bucky reached over him, pulling the seatbelt around the boy and snapping it into place. He tugged the belt tight for good measure, grumpily satisfied by the gasp it forced out of his sleepy passenger. 

Tony mumbled a sarcastic thanks, tugging the seatbelt looser, “Can’t sleep, got too much to do.”

“What like homework?”

Tony scoffed and leaned his forehead against the window. His dark hair fanned out against the glass and his eyes fluttered shut wearily, “The homework they give at school wouldn’t take an elementary schooler more than an hour.”

“Then what are you doing? Working on more ways to annoy people at school.”

One eyelid cracked open in irritation. “Working on stuff for Stark Industries.”

Bucky blinked, surprised at the serious answer. It was easy to forget that Tony was the son of Howard Stark. Howard Stark was a legend; a distant celebrity figure and Tony was the very real teenage boy who drooled when he slept and put his feet on Bucky’s dashboard no matter how often Bucky told him not to.

“Your Dad lets you work on stuff for his company?”

“Lets me?” Tony scoffed again, his voice sharp despite his tiredness, “who do you think worked on the newest release for the Stark phone?”

Bucky shrugged, he couldn’t afford a Stark phone and had only the vaguest notion that there had been a new model released. There wasn’t much point keeping up with things that were out of his reach.

At Bucky’s blank expression, Tony struggled upright, throwing his hands in exasperation, “Really? It was hailed as the biggest leap in smartphone technology for the last five year?”

Bucky shrugged. “I don’t have a Stark Phone.”

“Unbelievable,” Tony muttered, his face already pressed back against the window. “My fake boyfriend is a Luddite.”

* * *

 

The next day, Tony scrambled into the car eagerly, shoving a slim white package into Bucky’s chest hard enough to bruise.

Bucky nearly dropped the box when he realised what it was. “Are you giving me a Stark Phone?”

“No, I’m giving it to Steve and want you to pass it on for me.” Tony snapped sarcastically, “Of course I’m giving you a Stark Phone.”

Bucky frowned and tried to pass it back at the boy, “I can’t accept this.”

Tony batted his hands away, eyes already drifting shut, “I have loads of them just lying around –”

“Tony –”

“– Now you can marvel at how awesomely smart your fake boyfriend is. And yes, flattery is the way to my heart.”

“Tony,” Bucky interrupted sharply, his tone finally making Tony look at him. “I don’t know what you think this is, but this isn’t part of the deal. I can’t pay for it and I’m not interested in paying for it via any other means either.”

Bucky shoved the box into Tony’s hands and turned back to grab his steering wheel, eyes locked onto the road. Bucky had learnt the hard way that people rarely gave anything without wanting something in return. His metal prosthetic itched at the thought and he remembered the ongoing experiments SHIELD carriedout  on him, the prodding and poking and hours of feeling like a bug pinned to a scientist's wall. Bucky didn’t know what Tony wanted but he couldn’t help but remember the rumours about Tony’s activities last year; the parties and the drinking and the group of friends who had hung around Tony but didn’t have a millionaire father to pay off police and school officials.

The drive to school was the painfully awkward, the silence razor-sharp between them. Bucky drove bleached knuckled and Tony was mute and closed off next to him. Bucky's annoyance died slightly when he glanced over and saw Tony was white-faced, staring with wide, confused eyes down at the box in his hands.  Bucky blinked, unease settling into his stomach.

Tony had been biting his bottom lip and it was swollen, tender looking between his teeth.

Bucky cursed and pulled sharply into the first parking space he found, cutting up the car approaching from the other side and gesturing back at the furious honking that erupted.

“Look Tony…”

Tony, realising Bucky was watching him, seemed to physically build walls up around himself, layers of sneering indifference and icy boredom that twisted his raw features into to something hard and distant.

“I didn’t say you could keep it.” Tony interrupted imperiously, he shoved the box back into Bucky’s hands. “But it would look kind of weird if my boyfriend didn’t have one of my phones. Give it back when we’re not pretending to be together anymore. It doesn’t mean anything Barnes, just trying to sell this little romance.”

Before Bucky could respond, Tony had unclipped his seatbelt and was out of the car and stalking away.

Bucky cursed and let his head fall onto the steering wheel in frustration. His mother would have told him that he was being too cynical, that maybe Tony had just been trying to be nice and Bucky had been rude. Steve would probably tell him to burn the phone.

Bucky watched Tony stalk across the parking lot, his back hunched defensively. Some freshman stumbled into his path and Tony snarled at her, his words cutting if the way she flinched away from him was any indication.

Bucky sighed, feeling like a asshole.

A week into their pretend relationship and Bucky knew three things about Tony Stark: he was not a morning person, he was without doubt a genius and he had a soft vulnerable underbelly beneath his mask of cocky, sarcastic indifference.

Bucky picked up the phone gingerly, aware of how much it cost. He would figure out how to explain things to Tony, to make him understand that he couldn’t just take the gift and it wasn’t personal. It just wasn’t their relationship and he didn’t want to be indebted to the other boy.

Decision made, he put the phone into his backpack for safekeeping and clambered out his car and into the parking lot.

* * *

 

His plan to give the phone back to Tony lasted until lunch time when Gabe went digging in Bucky’s bag for a maths book and unearthed the Stark Phone instead.

“Ohhh, look at what Barnes has got!” Gabe crowed, hold up the phone like a trophy. The cry roused the little group sitting around them on the grass and Bucky was suddenly aware of the curious eyes locked on the branded white box.

Bucky cursed and dived at the shorter boy. Gabe darted nimbly out of range and Jan and Dugan gathered around him curiously.

“How did you get one of these?” Gabe asked.

“Tony gave it me, now give it back.” Bucky dived at him again, this time managing to snag Gabe round the knees and drop him to the floor.

Jan neatly snagged the package from Gabe’s flailing hands, turning it over with a considering eye. “I guess things are pretty serious if he’s giving you gifts like that.” she said, peering down at Bucky and he wrestled with Gabe in the grass.

“He said he had a load of them lying around.” Bucky said edgily, snatching the phone out of her hands. He staggered upright, to find Steve watching him an odd expression on his face.

“Bucky had a sugar daddy!” Gabe crowed from the floor. Bucky felt his cheeks burn and shoved the phone back into his bag before launching himself back at Gabe.

* * *

 

Later in bed, unable to sleep, Bucky fished out the Stark Phone from his bag.

As his friends had seen the phone, he figured he wouldn’t be able to give it back without it being suspicious. His decision might have also been influenced by Steve approaching him later that day and voicing Bucky’s own concerns about being in debt to Tony and Tony wanting things from him. Maybe Bucky felt guilty at hearing his own harsh thoughts or maybe it was distaste at the sneer in Steve’s voice as he talked about Tony but Bucky had been sharp in his defense of the other boy, telling Steve it wasn’t any of his business.

Steve’s face had gone pinched and stony, the expression he wore when he was winding himself up for a fight and for a moment Bucky thought they would fight over it. Then Steve had shaken himself out of it and told Bucky tightly he didn’t want to fight before drifting away.

It was only after that Bucky realised Steve hadn’t changed his mind about Tony.

Bucky looked down at the phone in admiration and guilt. He would thank Tony for the gift tomorrow; try to just accept the gesture for what it was.

He ran his finger over the sharp, sleek edge of the phone, almost dropping it when it lit up, the Stark logo filling up the screen.

‘Hello James’ the phone spelled out cheerfully before the screen was filled with apps. Bucky stared in surprise, apparently Tony had set up the phone for him already. In the contacts, there was a single number saved under the title ‘Genius Boyfriend’.

Bucky snorted in amusement and turned the phone to silent, placing it by his bed.

* * *

 

The next day he arrived to pick up Tony with a steaming cup of coffee waiting in the mug holder.

Tony’s nose twitched as he climbed sleepily into the car, his eyes flickered between Bucky and the paper cup. There was an uncertainty in his movements as he slid into the passenger seat, his hands held tight to his body. It made Bucky think that maybe he wasn’t the only one looking for hidden conditions attached to gifts.

“Well go on,” Bucky said with mock impatience, “drink it. I’m tired of having a zombie in the car with me every morning.”

Tony hesitated before reaching out and slurping at the coffee greedily. He made a noise that sounded completely inappropriate, something Bucky remarked upon with exaggerated distaste.

Tony made a rude gesture at him, his face still half submerged in the cup. “You brought me coffee, this is your fault.”

“At least you’re talking in sentences now.”

“You should be grateful just to be in my presence, full sentences or not.”

“I might as well have been in the presence of a teaspoon for all the sense you made this past week.” Bucky retorted.

Tony gave a squawk of annoyance and they fell easily into bickering back and forth. Buck found his cheeks hurting from the smile pulling at his mouth. Their conversation was easy, so easy it surprised him. Maybe it was because Tony didn’t know Bucky from before the accident and so it felt like he was on a level playing field with someone for the first time, or maybe it was just that their bickering banter fit when they allowed it. Whatever the reason, it was nice.

Bucky glanced over to see Tony had spread himself out across the passenger seat, legs bent and feet on the dashboard. His cheeks were flushed, eyes bright as he met Bucky’s gaze. Bucky couldn’t help but smile back.

Minutes later they were pulling into the school parking lot. Bucky blinked up at the building in surprise, he hadn’t realised how quickly the drive had gone.

“Oh.” Tony said, squinting at the school. “did you take a shorter route?”

Bucky shook his head, watching as Tony unbuckled his seatbelt, unfurling his legs from their perch. “I, erm, thanks for the phone.” He blurted.

Tony’s fingers were searching for the door handle, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Oh well…”

“It was a nice gesture. Thank you.”

“Just doing it to sell the whole fake dating thing,” Tony told him dismissively.

“Right. Of course.”

“Of course.”  Tony’s hand lingered on the door for a moment, his mouth twitching as if he was going to say something. Instead, he just shook the empty coffee cup at Bucky “make it bigger next time, you tightwad.”

Bucky threw a tissue at him, and Tony ducked away and darted off.

The next morning and every one thereafter, there was a large coffee mug waiting for Tony whenever he got into Bucky’s car. Neither of them said anything about it but Bucky went home to find a little smiley face and a coffee emoji waiting on his Stark phone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

On Monday, Bucky arrived at Tony’s house to find Tony nowhere to be seen.

Tony always waited for him on the main road, at least a foot away from the grandiose STARK archway and Bucky always dropped him off in the same spot. He’d offered to meet Tony closer to the mansion a few times but Tony always refused and he had grown awkward and stiff in a way that Bucky was starting to recognise as a sign not to push.

Bucky pulled over and looked around, half expecting Tony to come hurtling out from the nearby bushes but the seconds ticked away steadily with no change. Tony had never made him wait before.

Bucky turned off the engine for lack of anything else to. Without the rhythmic humming of his car, the strange unwelcoming silence was painfully obvious. Bucky had never lingered in front of the Stark mansion before and he was aware of how shabby and dirty his car was next to the imposing, extravagant manor.

Ten minutes came and went and Bucky pulled out his phone, impatience finally settling into irritation and send a text to Tony ‘Hurry up.’

Another five minutes passed before his phone beeped in reply, ‘Sorry. Coming’.

In the distance, he saw the mansion’s front door swing open violently and a small figure dart outside. Faster than Bucky thought possible, Tony hurtled down the driveway and threw himself into Bucky’s car. “Sorry. Sorry” Tony mumbled, running a hand jerkily through his hair.

Bucky looked at him for an explanation but Tony just raised his eyebrows defensively. “What, you’re saying you’ve never overslept?”

Bucky sighed but didn’t press him. He was quickly learning that Tony was as prickly as a hedgehog when he felt defensive and Bucky had no intention of being on the end of one of his tongue lashings. Especially not when the taste of discomfort and irritation lingered bitterly in Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky pulled away, glancing in his mirrors; in the doorway of Tony’s house was a big shadowy figure. Bucky’s neck prickled as he realised the man was watching them and when he glanced over Tony he saw that Tony eyes were locked unblinking on the wing mirror, watching back.

* * *

 

Despite Bucky’s best efforts, they were late to school, arriving just as the first bell went. Tony didn’t seem that bothered, explaining that his teachers were just grateful when he turned up and he sauntered off with a lazy wave thrown his back.

Bucky’s homeroom teacher was less forgiving, staring at him with one arched eyebrow as he fumbled through an apology.

“I hope that your liaison with Mr. Stark will not have a further negative impact on your schooling.”

Before Bucky could defend Tony, he was dismissed with a hand wave and he stomped off back to his seat in irritation.

“Bucky?” Steve hissed, waving at him from the next seat over. Steve’s face was contorted into a worried frown, his eyes searching as if he could see the reason for Bucky’s delay spelled out across his features. Bucky could almost see the blame shaping itself into something distinctly Tony shaped.

“I just got up late,” Bucky said tersely.

“You sure? You’ve been giving Tony a lot of lifts lately, your doctor did say not to overstretch yourself?”

“Giving someone a lift is not overstretching myself,” Bucky snapped back.

“Mr. Barnes, Mr. Rogers, is there something you would like to share with the class?” The homeroom teacher called out, snapping them back into their seats primly.

They shook their heads apologetically.

“In that case, I expect silence. Mr. Barnes this is your second warning today. A third will result in detention.”

Bucky bit his tongue and nodded in understanding.

* * *

 

At lunchtime, Bucky found he had missed three calls from mother and had received a dozen texts. He scrolled through the messages, walking into Steve absently.

Steve bounced off him, and they fumbled against each other for a minute, stopping each other from falling.  “You OK Buck?” Steve asked, that familiar knot of worry working its way between his eyebrows.

“Sorry, yeah.” Bucky sighed, “I forgot I’ve got a check up on my arm today after school.”

Steve's eyes flickered down to his hand, darting away as if he been caught looking at something he shouldn’t have. The phone in Bucky’s hand hissed and Bucky glanced down to see his metal hand was locked around the device tight enough to make the casing groan.

“I’ll come with you.” Steve declared.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ll come with you,” Steve repeated firmly, his eyes bright and determined. Something like relief washed through Bucky. “I’m your best friend, it’s my job.”

“Thanks, Steve,”

Steve hesitated, “Unless you want Tony….”

“No,” Bucky said quickly, Steve still hadn’t moved, his expression uncertain. “He’s busy anyway.”

Steve frowned but didn’t say anything and Bucky felt a moment of guilt as he realised that he’d just made Steve dislike Tony even more. But he didn’t want Tony to see him for his checkup, he wanted Steve. He needed Steve.

“it’s not his fault, it’s his dad.”

Steve nodded slowly, “of course.”

“So, see you at the end of the day?”

“I’ll meet you at my truck.”

Bucky barely had time to call his mother back and let her know he had received her message before the end of lunch. He could hear the relief in her voice when he explained that Steve would be coming with him. Steve had a peculiar talent for charming older women and making them believe butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Bucky didn’t begrudge him, especially considering how much leeway it had bought Bucky since his accident. 

He hurried to class, managing to fire a message to Tony explaining he had a doctor’s appointment and wouldn’t be able to give him a lift tonight. He stuffed the phone into his bag just as he charged through the classroom door. His teacher gave him a dirty look but luckily Gabe’s, even later, entrance a few minutes after was enough of a distraction for Bucky to slink unnoticed into his seat.

* * *

 

They took Steve’s car to the hospital – a battered third or fourth-hand Ford pickup truck - that made a worrisome clunking noise when it was forced round corners. According to Steve, he and Bucky had spent a whole summer mowing lawns and cleaning pools to gather the money for the truck but Bucky didn’t remember any of that. Bucky’s car was about as old as Steve’s but he’d only been gifted with it after his accident. Bucky wasn’t sure if his mother had bought him the car because he couldn’t ride a motorbike anymore or, to make sure he didn’t try.

 “I miss this,” Steve said suddenly, his voice breaking through Bucky’s increasingly fragmented train of thought.

“Huh?”

“Just, now you have Tony, I feel like I never see you anymore.”

Bucky felt his cheek heat up and he nodded dumbly, unable to find the words to respond. Luckily, Steve wasn’t finished.

“Not that I resent you being with him; you seem happy. I’m glad for you. I just miss us, you know?” Steve coughed slightly, clearing his throat, “You’re my best friend.”

“You’re my only friend.”

Steve laughed, “That’s not true, you have Gabe and Dugan and Jan.”

Bucky pulled a face, “Firstly, they’re your friends not mine and secondly, Jan is terrifying and Gabe is a moron.”

“Accurate but they are also you’re friends. I’ve never seen Jan so upset than when we heard about…” Steve trailed off. They didn’t talk about it much, no one talked about it much but Bucky’s accident was an unmissable metallic elephant hanging from his right shoulder. He fidgeted, feeling the edges of the metal where it met his shoulder burn suddenly.

The metal arm was a prototype, specially created for him by the research and development lab at SHIELD. Bucky had seen other prosthetics and knew he was light years ahead of everyone else, he knew he was lucky to have the movement and control he had.  He had tried to figure out why SHIELD had chosen him, but the most information he had received from the hospital was that some anonymous rich businessman had heard his story and worked hard to get him on the SHIELD programme.

Bucky didn’t like the idea that some random strange had put all that time and money into helping him and then chosen to remain anonymous. He didn’t like that SHIELD had given him the metal arm without a bill. It all felt like a huge invisible debt, one he never wanted, nor agreed to, hanging over his head. He couldn’t help but wonder what the price of all this would one day be. Bucky tried not to think about it too much and usually managed it until his check-ups happened.

As the lucky recipient of his metal prosthetic, he was compelled to report back to the research and development department in SHIELD when every they called. The official line was that the tests were to make sure he was healthy and the arm was functioning correctly.  But Bucky figured that the appointments were mostly so the scientists could perform a barrage of tests on him and his prosthetic and faun over their own intelligence. Bucky hated the visits, it made him feel like a lab rat. He supposed in many ways he was, he got the feeling SHIELD wouldn’t take it well if he decided he didn’t want to attend these appointments.

Bucky’s breathing was short and laboured as they arrived at the hospital.

“Bucky?” Steve’s hand was a welcome weight on his flesh arm, anchoring him to his body. “I’m here. Hey, breathe. You’re ok.”

Bucky nodded, swallowing his panic and forced himself to get up and out of the car. 

A smiling, neat little nurse was waiting for him, directing him to take off his clothes and to go into the doctor’s office. Steve charmed his way in with Bucky, explaining they were brothers in all but blood and smiling a smile so sweet Bucky almost gagged.

The doctor was a bored young man, who directed Bucky through a series of awkward stretches and movements, asked about his pain levels (unchanging) and then his memory.

Bucky shook his head, “Still mostly hazy. I remember some people but I still have big patches of memory loss.”

The doctor hummed in polite disinterest, tapping away at his computer. He pulled out a light and made Bucky follow it with his eyes. He was too close, the sterile smell of hospitals was suddenly oppressive and Bucky found his breath catching, dragging painfully through this chest.

Just before the effects of a full-blown panic attack took hold, the doctor pulled away and went back to tapping at his computer. Bucky stared down at his hands, they were fisted on his knees, one flesh hand and one metal one, he forced himself to relax his fingers. His flesh hand was shaking, the movement unmirrored in his prosthetic.

“That will be all Mr. Barnes,” The doctor said finally.

Bucky shot to his feet, glad to be dismissed.

“Wait, what about his memory? When will it be back?” Steve asked, still sat unmoving and determined in his chair.

The doctor’s gaze moved between them curiously, “I’m afraid that it is impossible to say. We had hoped that once the swelling in Mr. Barnes brain went down, he would recover his memories. That does not seem to have been the case.” The doctor turned directly to Bucky, “I’m afraid that your memories may never return.”

* * *

 

Bucky and Steve were silent as they waited for the next stage of the tests. Steve had gone quiet and sad looking at the doctor’s words and Bucky felt himself getting annoyed, resentful at Steve’s grief. Wasn’t he enough as he was, he wanted to shout. A familiar bitter taste of resentment for the other Bucky Barnes, the boy who had existed before the accident, filled Bucky’s mouth.

Before he could say anything, he was taken into the lab. This time Steve didn’t offer to come with him and Bucky was grateful. The lab tests were the same every time: a routine maintenance-check where one of the scientists flipped open some panels in his arms and worried around for a few minutes. Then they made him lift weights and pull weights and flex while watching with greedy, bright eyes.

It only took half an hour but it felt much longer and Bucky was covered in sweat and exhausted by the time the scientists tapped him on the shoulder to release him.

“See you this time next month.” One of the scientists said cheerfully, pushing her glasses up her face, “I’ll have a look into it and see if we can stop the little sharp pings you get when extending your arm above your head.”

Bucky grunted in reply, too tired to respond and shuffled his way out the room.

In the hallway, Steve was stood talking to a tall dark-skinned man in a long leather duster and eyepatch. The man was at odds with the hospital setting, completely out of place and the odd sight brought Bucky up short, dragging him out of his exhaustion. Steve was rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, almost bouncing in excitement.

“Steve?” Bucky called and his voice was rough, jarring in the quiet hallway.

The man clasped Steve on the shoulder and gave him one brisk nod before stalking away.

“Who was that?” Bucky asked, walking slowly to meet up his friend.

“He was the Director of SHIELD,” Steve told Bucky, his eyes wide and unnatural bright, brilliant alive in his thin, sharp-featured face. “He was telling me about their recruitment programme, they work with the army. Some sort of special ops I think”

The exhaustion Bucky was feeling evaporated like water on a heated surface; he wanted to find the Director and punch him in his stupid, cruel face. Steve, oblivious to Bucky’s fury carried rocking on his toes excitedly.

Steve’s late father had been in the army, he had died a hero’s death and his shadow loomed long and imposing over the Rogers household. Bucky might not remember everything but remembered enough of the ridiculous, unwinnable fights Steve had got himself into over the years. All of them, a desperate attempt to emulate a deified, dead man.

 Steve held up a thick, fancy looking square of paper. “. SHIELD and some rich lady’s charity are teaming up to hold a Christmas Charity event. He gave me an invite, said I should go and meet some of the people he has recruited. He said he thinks I have potential.”

“I bet he did,” Bucky muttered darkly.

Steve turned to him, spinning around so fast his hair floated out around in wild gold strands. His eyes were bright with desire but hard, determined. Ready for an unwinnable fight.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Steve told him.

“I’m not – ”

“You’re thinking I’m delusional, that I’m an idiot. That I will never be able to fight or join something like this.”

Bucky remained guilty silent.

“And maybe you’re right, maybe I can’t be a soldier because of my asthma and maybe I’m too small and too weak but I want to try. I will try and I want my best friend to believe in me.”

Bucky deflated. “I do believe in you. I do. I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“I know.” The edges of Steve’s lips quirked up, “Your protectiveness is appreciated.”

 “Liar.”

 “Friends appreciate each other’s flaws,” Steve told him, the edges of his smile betraying his otherwise sincere expression.

“Hey!”

Steve held up the fancy paper and pushed into Bucky’s hands, “Fury said the businessman who put your forth for the metal prosthetic programme would be there.”

Bucky blinked, “His name is Fury?”

“That’s what you picked up in that sentence!”

“Sorry, sorry…. I just… wait really? How does he know?”

“I dunno, I think the businessman has some kind of involvement the charity!” Steve eyes locked on Bucky’s face, big and blue and sincere. “Come with me? Be my plus one?”

Bucky’s heart gave a strange stutter of surprise. “what?”

“Fury gave me two invites. You should come with me. This is your chance to find the guy who helped you.”

“Oh,” The feeling in Bucky’s chest stuttered to a halt and he nodded feeling confused and embarrassed, “oh right. Of course.”

“Brilliant!” Steve grinned, “Hey sit down, you’ve gone all white. I’ll go and grab your things.” Steve gently pushed him onto one of the benches that lined the hallway, darting off down the corridor to the locker room.

Bucky groaned, his chest tight with humiliation. For one moment he had thought Steve was asking him to be his date. And for one brief ridiculous moment, he had been so happy. Bucky let his head roll back and hit the wall behind him with a satisfying thump. He was such an idiot, he had thought he was getting over this ridiculous crush.

“Hello, are you ok?”

Bucky jolted. The smiling, neat nurse who had greeted was standing over him, her head titled worried. “Do you want me to call someone?”

“Oh no, Steve’s here. He’s just gone to get my things.” Bucky said awkwardly, gesturing in the direction Steve had run off to. The nurse smiled, her eyes catching on the crumpled white invite in his outstretched hand.

“Oh, you’re going to the winter gala?”

“Oh, er maybe.”

“You should definitely go!” she told him “It should be a fun night, you and your cute blonde boyfriend will enjoy it.” The nurse gave him a kind wink, a pat on the shoulder before disappearing back down the corridor.

Bucky stared at her, shocked. He turned the envelope over gingerly, it was thick expensive paper. ‘For Maria’ written across the header in stylises gold lettering. He traced the word with his fingers, wondering who Maria was. Maybe Fury had stolen Steve’s invite off someone else.

“Hey, you ready?”

Bucky glanced up. Steve had gathered their things into an awkward pile, his arms struggling to stretch around the lump of bags and coats. He peered around the edges of a wayward scarf. If Bucky hadn’t been feeling so exhausted, he would have blushed.

The nurse had thought Steve was his boyfriend.

* * *

 

It was close to eleven when Bucky arrived home.

The rest of the house had gone to bed and he stumbled through the dark awkwardly, trying not to wake anyone up and stubbing his toe on every edge and corner he came across.

Throwing his bag on the floor, Bucky let himself flop onto his bed, rubbing his foot gently. Despite the hospital appointment and Director Fury, it had been a good day. Steve had been there, and they were going to some fancy charity gala together. And maybe Bucky wasn’t completely crazy: the nurse had thought they were dating.

His bag vibrated angrily, snapping Bucky from his thoughts, he blinked sleepily and dragged his bag closer, pulling out his phone.

A string of unanswered texts filled up his display. He opened up messenger sleepily, scrolling up to see the first message.

Genius Boyfriend: Bit late notice, how am I meant to get home?

Genius Boyfriend: Oi Barnes?

Genius Boyfriend: Fine I’ll just walk home, I want you to know if I get kidnapped and sold into slavery this is all your fault.

Genius Boyfriend: what are you even going to the doctors for?

Genius Boyfriend: I hope your appointment went well.

Genius Boyfriend: BTW, I expect an extra-large cup of coffee and some sort of pastry tomorrow!

Bucky snorted and dropped his phone down next to his bed. As his eyes closed, he couldn’t help but wonder what type of pastry Tony liked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that? I think it is! Its the beginning of actual plot. A winteriron ficlet of your choice to the first person who can guess the twist in this story.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Bucky turned up the next day with an assortment of pastries, some of them still hot from the oven. Tony made a little breathless sound of delight as he opened the car door, sniffing the air like a puppy.

“You can ditch me more often if this is the apology I get,” Tony mumbled, lips dark pink and wet as he stuffed another Danish into his mouth. Bucky suspected he should have been disgusted. He tried to reach for Tony’s coffee, only for to Tony to lurch away from him, batting his hands away with a cry of “mine!”

Bucky laughed and did it again just to see the betrayal written across the other boy’s face. Tony’s oversized jumped slid up his arms, flashing bony wrists as he tried to wrestle his coffee to safety. Bucky easily held him off; it times likes these it paid to have an impossibly strong, unfeeling metal arm. His eyes flickered down, catching on the unexpected shock of colour on the narrowest part of Tony’s arm. An angry purple and red bruise.

Before Bucky could process it, Tony had snatched his coffee away and was curled up in his seat, his jumper curled over his fingers and his knees brought up high to make himself small and snug looking on his chair. He grinned victoriously at Bucky over his steaming cup, gesturing imperatively at the steering wheel.

“Well come on then. We’re going to be late.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, and put the car into gear, “Yes, I know you’d hate to miss a single lesson.”

“I would cry and cry and cry,” Tony replied without an ouch of sincerity.

Bucky smiled at him, the bruise was probably nothing. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a little uneasy. He wondered how Tony had made it home last night without him.  Tony often made jokes about not wanting to take the school bus with Neanderthals like Brock Rumlow but what if it wasn’t exactly a joke.  Or maybe Tiberius Stone had escalated from whispering nasty rumours. 

Bucky glanced over at Tony. Tony often seemed to fill whatever space he inhabited, his personality overwhelming and his tongue razor sharp. It was easy to forget that he was a slender, shorter than average teenage, a year younger than all his peers. Bucky suspected that snakes like Rumlow and Stone never forgot.

In homeroom, Bucky gave into his unease and leaned across the desk to poke Jan. “Hey.”

She blinked at him, one delicate arched eyebrow raised.

“You’re in Tony’s classes, aren’t you?”

“Some of them.”

“Think you could keep an eye out for him?”

Jan looked intrigued, resting her delicate chin in her palms and smiling at him. “And why do you want me to ogle your boyfriend?”

“No reason.”

Jan waited, one eyebrow raised patiently.

“Just worried, he mentioned Rumlow and…”

Jan held up a hand, “say no more. I shall shelter your boyfriend like a baby bird from a storm.”

“Er, thanks?”

“No thanks needed. Besides,” Jan grinned wickedly.  “I’m guessing plan B was breaking Rumlow’s nose again.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, “I never said that.”

Jan patted his arm, “You didn’t need to, frankly you’re getting a little predictable Barnes.”

Bucky shook his head, at least Tony would have someone who could match his constant talking.

* * *

 

“So tell me,” Tony started as he threw his bag into Bucky’s car that evening. It hit the floor hard, the dull echo of metal hitting metal reverberating through the cabin. “Why you decided to sic Van Dyne on me?”

Bucky blinked in open panic, “I didn’t?”

Tony smiled: a strange sharp-toothed expression that made Bucky think of sharks. “You’re such a liar, Barnes. What the fuck are you playing at? I didn’t agree to this so you could start manipulating me. If this is some weird sort of joke with your friends…”

“No,” Bucky interrupted quickly, seeing the pulsing vein on Tony’s forehead. He was pulling out on the main road and he didn’t fancy their chances if Tony tried to strangle him in a moving vehicle. “It’s not that, I was just worried about you.”

Tony stared at him blankly. “Worried about me?”

“With Rumlow?”

“Rumlow?” Tony repeated slowly.

“You had a bruise on your arm and I figured it must be Rumlow, I’ve seen him shoving people around.”

Tony’s hand curled around his wrist, fingers tight around the dark mark Bucky had seen that morning. His cheeks were faintly pink and his mouth wide open in a little perfect ‘O’.

“Look.” Tony said stiffly, “While I’m sure this is a very nice gesture in whatever weird chivalrous land you and Rogers live in, I do not need you or anyone else to protect me OK?”

Bucky frowned, a familiar impatient edge creeping into his voice. “You were hurt.”

“Barnes, if I needed your help, I would have asked for it.”

The use of his surname was a slap in the face, they had stopped calling each by their surnames weeks ago. Bucky bit back a sharp retort. He remembered how prickly Steve got when he got involved in those fights and told himself that it was probably the same for Tony. Pride had a way of being easily bruised.

Bucky sighed in frustration. If Tony didn’t want his help then there was nothing he could do. Besides just because Tony didn’t want Bucky’s help didn’t mean Bucky was going to tell Jan to back off. “Ok, fine. I’m sorry.”

Tony smiled, forgiveness grated in one blink of an eye. He slumped back into his chair, throwing his feet up onto the dashboard and ducking at the hand that Bucky sent towards him with practiced ease.

“It fine, you can make it up to me.”

Bucky snorted, “Oh and how will I do that?”

Tony grinned, thrusting a piece of brightly coloured paper into Bucky’s face. “Take me to this”

Blinded, Bucky pushed Tony and his paper away. His car swerved and the vehicle behind them honked loudly in protest.

“Sorry,” Tony said, not sounding very sorry at all. He was gently smoothing out the crinkles in the paper. “The Exhibition on Astronomy: It’s only in town for this weekend. No buses go there, but since you can drive it won’t be a problem. Maybe you’ll even learn something. Although I’ve seen your science scores so I won’t hold my breath.”

“OK.”

Tony went silent, blinking at Bucky dumbly. “Huh?”

“I said OK. I’ll give you a lift.”

Tony squinted at him, “You did hear the bit where I indicated it was an hour away right?”

Bucky shrugged, “I’ll pick you up at 10. Although I’m surprised that someone like you is into horoscopes and all that rubbish.”

Tony squawked in indignation and made to protest before seeing the twinkling amusement in Bucky’s eyes and falling back into gaping silence, eyes darting around Bucky’s face as if he was trying to find something. “I don’t get you at all.” Tony huffed finally.

“It’s part of my charm, I’m a sexy enigma.”

* * *

 

Tony’s disbelief hadn’t seemed to have lessened when Bucky turned up at his house on Saturday morning as arranged. It was the first time they had seen each other outside of their journeys to and from school and their conversation was awkward and stunted, despite the easy repertoire they had cultivated recently.

“Here,” Tony said as they arrived at the museum breaking the lingering quiet between them. Bucky blinked at the crisp piles of notes that was suddenly forced into his hand.

“What?”

“For driving me,” Tony said stiffly.   

Bucky frowned and dropped the money back into his lap. “I didn’t offer to do it because I wanted your money.”

Tony had twisted his fingers together into a twitching, awkward knot. “Then why? We’re not really dating you know.”

Bucky licked his lips. Why had he offered? Because he felt guilty about the day he’d ditched Tony alone or because despite his jokes he could see how much Tony had wanted to come to this exhibition and some part of him had pitied the boy?

“Because we're friends.” He said at last.

Tony was looking at him again, his features wavering into an increasingly familiar expression of wary uncertainty and faint trembling want. Bucky sometimes thought Tony looked like a man starving from want. 

“Well, I’ll at least buy your ticket,” Tony said finally, full of bluster even as his eyes slid away to avoid Bucky’s gaze. “I’m not letting you just wait in the car, you need the chance to study.”

“Oh Captain, my Captain,” Bucky said, hand pressing over his heart.

Tony rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his face, softer than the shark-toothed grins Bucky was used to Tony flashing in his direction.

The queue to the exhibition was long, snaking its way outside and along the chilled pavement. By the time Bucky and Tony entered the museum they were dehydrated and sweating in their winter layers. Tony got his second wind once the tickets were in his hand, bouncing excitedly on the spot. Bucky grabbed him by the collar before he could dart off, dragging him towards the café.

“Water first.” He demanded.

Tony waved sadly at the exhibition but let himself be manhandled away without complaint. Bucky offered to get the drinks which was mostly just a ploy so he could also get sandwiches and cakes. At Tony’s questioning look Bucky raised an eyebrow, his mouth stretched around one half of a ham and cheese panini and defensively explained that he needed fuel to maintain his growth.

Tony narrowed his eyes and slurped noisily on his coke. His lack of comment was, Bucky suspected, out of self-preservation more than anything. Tony didn’t seem to be having the growth spurt that Bucky or many other boys in their year were going through and remained an increasingly long hair beneath average.

Bucky nudged a thick, pink icing encrusted donut into the middle of the table as a peace offering.

“Bucky?” Bucky glanced up to see Bruce Banner shuffling towards them.

Bruce was more Steve’s friend than his, a quiet intelligent guy who had surprised them all at the start of the semester by getting into a massive fight and pounding the shit out Rumlow. Proving yet again that people really did punch Rumlow a lot when they first met him and that punching Rumlow was enough to make anyone automatically one of Steve and Bucky’s friends.

“Oh, hi Bruce,” Bucky croaked, feeling himself freeze as Bruce looked at him and Tony and the shared donut between them.

“I didn’t know you liked astronomy,” Bruce said politely.

“Tony does,” Bucky said automatically. Tony waved in Bruce’s direction, uncaring of the increasing awkward atmosphere.

“Oh, yes. Steve mentioned you two were dating.” Bruce smiled. Bucky had to bite back the automatic denial that rushed to his tongue, reminding himself that as far as everyone knew he and Tony were dating.

Bucky smiled back awkwardly, the expression uncomfortable on his face, like a mask ready to slid off at the first hint of movement. A long moment of silence strung out between them and Bucky could feel nervous energy coiling up through his limbs, a familiar fight or flight reflex in the face of confrontation.

“Err, well,” Bruce said finally, eyes shifting towards the door. “I’ll leave you two to your date then.”

“Ok, bye.” Bucky held his smile for only as long as Bruce was in sight, sinking down to rest his face in his hands with a groan.

“Way to make a man feel good,” Tony joked, his tone sharp. He was slumped in the worn wooden chair, fingers ripping and twisting the napkin before him.

“Sorry, it’s not you.” Bucky sighed, unsure of how to explain why Bruce’s innocent question had made him feel like he wanted to run away and hide. For a moment he had forgotten about his and Tony's deal; the reminder that they weren't friends, that Tony didn't even like him, that all of this was fake had stung somehow. “I’m just starting to feel that this lie is growing out of my control.”

Tony dropped the napkin onto the table, slowly pushing the shredded paper into an unstable hill. “We can always stage a breakup.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Not yet."

“Right.” Tony pushed his plate away and stood up, his smile stretched wide across his otherwise unmoving face, “I want to go to the exhibition now, you’ve made me wait long enough.”

* * *

 

The exhibition was more interesting that Bucky could have imagined, the evolution of stargazing equipment was laid out, spiralling around the room in neat black exhibition stands. Having Tony explain everything helped, he seemed to know the history of every telescope and their creators.

“How do you remember all this?” Bucky asked impressed.

Tony shrugged, peering at him through one of the old inverted lenses. “I have a photographic memory and I’m just really smart.”

“How come you haven’t skipped grades?”

Tony shrugged, “Well I skipped one but my mother wants,” Tony’s speech ground to a halt. He coughed before continuing. “My mother wanted me to have friends, peers my own age. And well my dad can’t stand the thought of not being the smartest Stark anymore.” The last sentence was quieter, sharp with bitterness.

Tony suddenly grabbed Bucky’s wrist, his hand curling tightly around Bucky’s arm. “Come on, let’s go look at the stars.”

The final centrepiece of the exhibition was a grand dome-shaped room filled with padded reclining chairs. Tony shuffled Bucky along until they were in the centre of the room. Bucky couldn’t help but smile: of course, Tony went for the best seats in the house, uncaring of the glares sent his way as people struggled to inch around them.

Slowly the stark fluorescent lights around them faded and the dome above them was transformed into a skyscape. The blue sky melted to yellows and oranges stripes, darkening through a rainbow of brilliant shades of reds and purples: a sped-up sunset playing out just feet above them. Finally, the fake sky settled into a velvety purple night, dotted with distant, twinkling stars.

“Wow,” Bucky said, unable to hold back his awe.

To his right, Tony glanced over, his body slightly turned towards Bucky, and they shared a smile. In Tony’s dark eyes Orion’s belt was reflected, a chain of silvery shimmering stars shining back at him.

“Wow,” Bucky whispered, his voice lost beneath the audio which had started playing.

* * *

 

It had taken Bucky longer than he liked to admit to realise that Tony was, for all his prickliness and aloofness, desperately lonely. Bucky recognised it in the way Tony reached out for Bucky when they were laughing only to pull away, uncertain wariness in his eyes like a dog waiting to be told off.  It made Bucky sad to see and made him grateful for Steve’s friendship. Bucky had been a lot of things but he’d never been lonely.

Bucky was thinking of Tony and loneliness the next Monday as he approached his friends for lunch. A familiar slender figure was sat sandwiched between Jan and Dugan. Tony was unusually mute, his eyes moving between the other students. If Bucky hadn’t become familiar with Tony’s minute tell-tale mannerism,  he would have said he looked relaxed but he recognised the tightness around Tony’s eyes and the forced, strain of his smile and felt a surge of heated protectiveness.

“Alright, what is this?” Bucky demanded.

“We got tired of waiting for you to introduce us to your boyfriend,” Gabe said, eyebrows wiggling on the word boyfriend.

“We were being friendly, ain’t that right Tony?” Dugan elbowed Tony hard enough to send the smaller boy wobbling over.

Tony rubbed his side, “Friendly like a spider to a fly.” He muttered and Dugan roared with laughter.

“He’s alright. You should have brought him along sooner.”

“Well he’s here now and I think he probably wants rescuing,” Bucky held out a hand and Tony eagerly grasped it, letting himself be pulled up and pressing himself as close as he could get to Bucky without touching. Bucky could feel the faint quiver running through him even with the distance.

“Come sit with us again Tony!” Dugan called, the sentiment echoed by Jan and Gabe.

Bucky put his hand in the small of Tony’s back leading him away. As soon as they were out of sight, Tony released a big shuddering breath.

“You OK?” Bucky asked.

“Oh, yes, they’re nice.” The word sounded strange in Tony’s mouth as if he wasn’t used to saying it. Or, not used to saying it and meaning it.

Bucky snorted, “Sure they are.” He felt light as they walked back to class, the school bell ringing behind them. “Nice like a bunch of braying Hyenas are nice.”

Tony laughed, nodding in agreement.

Yet, somehow it didn’t surprise Bucky to find Tony already sat with Bruce and Jan the next day when he came for lunch. Or every day that week.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to join me on tumblr, I can be found at https://blaithinwrites.tumblr.com/


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for child abuse

 

Bucky woke to the sound of whirring machines. For a moment he was on the hospital bed, agony ripping across his shoulder as knives cut into his

flesh, ripped apart his bones. He arched away, trying to escape. The movement made his fall from his bed and he landed heavily on the wooden floor of his bedroom, hitting his knees hard enough to make them rattle in the joints.

The harsh movement knocked him fully out of his dream and Bucky let himself slump on the floor in relief, his flesh hand tracing the grain in the wooden floor, grounding him. The whirring of imagined hospital machines settled into a faint buzz and Bucky realised that the noise was coming from his phone which was vibrating wildly on his bedside table.

Bucky gave himself another few seconds to breathe, to feel the familiar dull ache in his shoulder before reaching up for the phone.

“Hello?”

“…”

“Hello?” He asked again, his voice gruff with sleep and nightmares.

“Bucky?” Tony voice was quiet, thick like he too had just woken up.

“Tony? What’s wrong.”

For a moment there was no answer from the other end of the phone other than Tony’s rattling breathing.

“Tony?”

“Can I have a lift?”

Bucky glanced over at his clock. “What? It’s one in the morning!"

“Yeah, sorry. Sorry. I’ll just...” there was something wrong with Tony’s voice, a hitching desperation that made Bucky’s stomach clench.

“Tony? What’s wrong.”

There a shuddering sob on the other end of the line. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” It was unmistakable now, the sound of crying.

Bucky was wide awake, already on his feet and stuffing his legs into his jeans. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

* * *

 

Bucky almost missed him, a small slender figure sat on the curb near the high school. At this time of night, the school looked eerie, unlit and abandoned. Rain poured from the skies making the whole picture even more miserable.

He saw Tony stand up and slammed his breaks on. The dark figure crept up his car, cold fingers fumbling with the door. Seconds late Tony was slipping like a whisper into his car, his breath was loud, catching with cold and he was shivering and dripping onto the threadbare carpet.

He didn’t seem to be crying anymore but Bucky could see his eyes were swollen and bloodshot, his face white as paper.

“What happened?” Bucky demanded. He felt like he had taken his first proper breath of the night when Tony had crawled into his car.

“I…” Tony went silent and shook his head.

Bucky tugged at him, twisting him so he couldn’t avoid Bucky’s stare anymore. The movement exposed Tony’s face and the vivid red mark across his left cheek. It was fresh, not yet a bruise but Bucky could see the shape of a hand forming.

Bucky stared, feeling himself get hot with rage. Tony turned away, staring out the windscreen intently.

“I got into a fight,” Tony said, his voice flat with the lie. Bucky felt his rage twist and direct itself at Tony, how dare the boy drag him out here and lie to him.

“At one in the morning?” Bucky could feel himself winding up, coiling up ready to unleash.

Tony slumped, head into hands with exhaustion, his voice was thick with tears once again when he spoke. “Please, please can you just not.”

Bucky bit his tongue hard and leaned back into his chair, his hands twisted around the steering wheel, his knuckles white and the leather creaking under his fingers. They sat in silence for a moment, Tony’s uneven, heavy breathing filling the space between them.

Bucky cursed and put the car into gear, the roar of the accelerator echoing.

“Bucky?” Tony sounded panicked.

“We’re going home.”

“No, I don’t want to go…”

“To my home.” Bucky interrupted, “You don’t have to tell me what happened but I’m not sitting in the school car park all night and if you don’t get some ice on your cheek soon your whole face is going to swell.”

Tony nodded finally, slumping in his seat. He seemed smaller, younger than Bucky had ever seen him before. It wasn’t a good look on him. Bucky knocked the handbrake off viciously and pulled out onto the empty road.

* * *

 

Tony followed Bucky into his house like a shadow, Bucky had to keep looking behind him to make sure he was even there.

In the stark light of his house, Tony looked even worse. As well as the great big red mark on his face,  his collar was twisted -  the material torn as if someone had grabbed his shirt and dragged him around.

Bucky looked at him darkly and Tony squirmed under the scrutiny. He got a bag of frozen peas, wrapped it in a towel and pressed it against Tony’s face. Tony’s skin was already cold from the rain, his dark hair drooping and water sodden.

“Hold that to your face, I’m going to get you some dry clothes,”  Bucky told Tony, ignoring the boy’s whispered protests as he dashed upstairs.

Minutes later he shuffling Tony up into his room, gesturing towards the towels and sweat pants and shirts he had laid out on the bed. He stayed outside in the hall, letting his head fall back against the wall as Tony changed. He could hear his mother’s soft sleep sounds coming from the next room and found himself copying her slow breathing. He felt twisted up, all his insides contorted and confused.

His bedroom door opened behind softly in invitation and Bucky slipped inside.

Tony was stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, his bag of peas still held to his face. Looking at him, Bucky couldn’t help but snort. Bucky’s sweat pants drooped down over Tony’s skinny hips, folding over his feet. 

“I could still grow.” Tony scowled, sounding more like himself then he had all evening.

“It’s good to have dreams” Bucky responded, grabbing the bag of peas out the air as they went sailing towards him. “Sit down, let me look at you.”

Tony perched on Bucky’s bed, tensing at Bucky bent over him. Bucky tilted Tony’s head back, angling him towards the light. He could see Tony’s eyes darting around, flitting onto Bucky’s face then dancing away, unable to settle. Up close he could feel the heat from Tony’s skin, see the quiver in his lips. Bucky’s breath came shallower, heavier.

“You’ll live,” Bucky said finally, releasing Tony and stepping away. “Now move over, it’s two in the morning.”

Tony glanced around and then wiggled across the bed.

Bucky pulled his damp t-shirt off, tensing when he realised Tony was still watching him, dark eyes trained not on his face but on the ugly mess of angry scar tissues knotted across his shoulder and the red-raw edges when his skin met his prosthetic. Bucky forced himself not to hide, smiling sardonically. “Ugly isn’t it.”

“No,” Tony said quietly. He looked up meeting Bucky’s eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“All the time.”

They fell into silence as Bucky finished getting into his night clothes, shuffling awkwardly to make room for each other in the bed. Bucky groped to his left for his bedside light and plunged them into darkness.

Tony’s presence next to him was suddenly unbearable. Bucky found himself waiting for each breath, his limbs stiff and paralysed at the idea of Tony laid out next to him, close enough to feel the heat from his skin.

A hand on his shoulder made him flinch.

“Sorry,” Tony whispered, he had moved close enough that Bucky could feel hot air on his neck as he spoke. “Thank you, thanks for letting me stay and coming to get me.”

Bucky twisted over, so they were facing each other even if he could barely make out the shape of Tony’s face in the dark. “Tony, what happened?”

Tony sighed, “We were arguing, I threw a picture at him and he….well. I stormed out and it was only when I was at the school that I realised I had nowhere to go. I don’t have any friends here.” He laughed softly, a bitter sound, “I didn’t really have friends at my old school either.”

Bucky was silent, taking in all the unspoken details in Tony’s story. He remembered the shadowy figure who had watched them from the Stark mansion; the bruise on Tony’s wrist a couple of weeks ago. He remembered, standing on the science building roof staring at the scabbed over cut that had stretched along the swollen bottom lip of Tony’s mouth. Bucky felt stupid. He felt stupid and blind and furious.

“Do you fight with him a lot.”

Tony shook his head, a flash of movement in the dark. “No, mostly we try our very best to pretend the other doesn’t exist. I started it. I don’t, I don’t know why. Sometimes I just feel like I’m going to disappear and I get so mad. Sorry, I guess that doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, I understand.” Bucky found himself shifting closer, their hands were on top of the covers, millimetres away from touching.

Bucky sighed. “I don’t remember much from before this year. I don’t remember the accident either, but they said I fell hard, hit my head hard enough to knock the memories right out of my brain. Steve and my mum and my friends, they’ve been so great but I sometimes I feel like a stranger, a visitor in Bucky Barnes’ life. I want to scream at them sometimes, so they’ll see me and not the person I was. I think it’s why I like spending time with you, you weren’t here before. I’m not living up to any ideas you had about me.”

Tony's hand was running up and down the covers, a slow soothing motion.

“I didn’t know you had lost your memory.”

Bucky laughed, choked. “Yeah, I have some memories but they’re hazy, like a dream. Or like seeing under water. The first thing I properly remember was lying in the A&E about to get my arm cut off.”

Tony hissed, a sharp sound of shock.

Bucky found himself automatically holding his shoulder, fingers tracing the edge of the prosthetic. “I have nightmares of it, the pain, the sawing.”

Tony’s hand was suddenly on his, squeezing tight, hard enough to hurt. He didn’t say anything, didn’t offer any expressions of sympathy and Bucky was grateful, he’d heard enough of those to last a lifetime.

“Hey ,Tony.”

“Yeah.”

“You were wrong before.” Bucky said softly, still clinging on to Tony’s hand, “You do have friends here. You have me.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: underage drinking and Tiberius Stone

 

Bucky struggled to wake the next morning; his head was heavy and his thoughts sluggish. In the background, he could hear the familiar sounds of his family getting ready, doors slamming, the whistling of a kettle, the low indistinguishable murmuring of people as they hurried around each other. He groaned sleepily, trying to curl up tighter only to find that his face was already pressed into an unexpected mess of hair, his arm flung over someone else’s waist.

Blinking in surprise, Bucky dragged himself awake, blushing as he realised Tony was sleeping in his arms: back to chest. Bucky glanced at his face. Asleep, Tony looked impossibly young, his features relaxed, the feathery sweep of his eyelashes impossibly long against his cheeks. The bruise from the night before had darkened into a swollen, ruddy mark which stretched round Tony’s cheekbone. Bucky found himself wincing at the sight of it, reaching down to gently feel Tony’s face the heat radiating off the bruise.

Bucky was so focused on the boy in his arms that he didn’t hear his bedroom door crack open or the soft, familiar footsteps making their way into his room until it was too late.

“Hey, your mom said to just come and wake you…oh.”

Bucky twisted around, panicked at the familiar voice. His sudden movement upended Tony and sent the boy tumbling awkwardly away from him. Tony made a sleepy noise of protest in the background as Bucky looked up to face a blushing, wide-eyed stare of Steve.

“Steve.” Bucky made to get out of bed, but Steve held out his arms as if fending him off. His face was flushed red with embarrassment.

“Sorry! I didn’t think… I didn’t know he’d been here.” Steve said hurriedly, backing away. “I thought, well, never mind. I’ll just leave you two alone.”

Before Bucky could say anything in protest Steve had backed out the room, slamming the bedroom harder than Bucky thought possible for someone so skinny.

Bucky groaned, flopping back onto the bed, covering his face with his hands.

“You know.” Tony said, his voice husky from sleep, “he seemed kind of jealous.”

“huh?” Bucky glanced over. Tony’s eyes were drooping, soft looking and his hair was even wilder than usual, curling across his forehead and cheeks in dark sweeps.

“I said for someone you’re so sure doesn’t return your feeling, he seemed awfully jealous at finding you in bed with your boyfriend.”

Bucky remained silent, unable to process this information. “Steve doesn’t see me like that.”

“Maybe he’d just never thought about it very hard.”

For a moment Bucky imagined it, imagined that Steve had blushed so hard and run away from him because he was jealous because he wanted Bucky for himself. He sighed, shaking the fantasy away.

“He’s straight.”  Bucky tilted his head, meeting Tony’s dark, searching eyes, “When I woke up from my accident, I spent months in the hospital and then going back and forth to rehab. I was depressed, confused, angry. Steve was there for me every step of the way. He always pushed me, always forced me to keep going even when I didn’t think I could. He did it because we were friends, best friends.” Bucky smiled, a painful twist of his mouth, “but I don’t remember any of that, not really. To me, Steve is the person who saved my life. It was impossible not to love him”

Tony sighed, “You have a lot going on in that big old head of yours.”

Bucky snorted, “Yeah I’ve been told that before.”

“For what it’s worth, I think you should tell him how you feel.”

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Lies ruins friendships.” Tony told him, “Worst case scenario he doesn’t feel the same way. But despite his many, many faults, I don’t think Rogers is a homophobe so it’s not like he is going to fall out with you over it. And he might even feel the same.”

Bucky was silent for a moment, before shaking his head. “I dunno. I don’t want things to change between us.”

“It’s going to come out.” Tony told him bluntly, “Rumlow knows. He’ll tell him or Steve will figure it out. That would be worse.”

Bucky winced. “Yeah, I suppose.” He glanced back at Tony. The boy was in his bed, wearing his clothes and lying so close they were almost touching. For a moment Bucky remembered how he’d woken up, how soft Tony’s hair had been, how easily they had fitted together. His conviction wavered. “But what about.” Bucky gestured at Tony and himself vaguely.

Tony laughed, a strange, little, clipped sound, “I guess you best fake break up with me.”

Bucky nodded slowly, “I guess.” He wondered if he sounded as unsure as he felt.

* * *

 

Despite agreeing they were going to break up their fake tryst, they kept their ruse going for another two weeks.

Bucky didn’t want to break up with Tony straight after Steve had seen them in bed together. Even with his predisposition for blaming Tony for all things, Steve wouldn’t be able to ignore the insensitive poor timing on Bucky’s party. Tony agreed claiming he didn’t want to give ‘Rogers any excuse to pity him.’

In the end, Tony suggested that they stage a public break up, that maybe he could break up with Bucky so Steve would comfort him. Bucky agreed because it was a good idea not because it meant that they had to wait even longer.

Besides Bucky couldn’t help but worry about leaving Tony alone. They hadn’t talked about that night. The one-time Bucky had tried to bring it up, Tony had brushed Bucky off with a waspish explanation that ‘he’ had gone back to New York and Bucky should stop bothering him about things that weren’t an issue.

Somehow, once the bruises had faded from Tony’s face, it had become harder and harder to hold onto the feeling, the memories of that night, especially in the face of Tony’s denial. It felt almost like a dream, a nightmare. Impossible and unreal in the bright light of day. So, Bucky’s thoughts wandering back to school and his rehab and their plan to fake breakup.

Finally, the opportunity they had been waiting for presented itself.

Jan Van Dyme had been having an annual Halloween Party since middle school. It had evolved over as the party goers had grown up, and for the past two years, her father had let her host the party in the large pool house on his grounds. Bucky only remembered the party vaguely but he knew that the pool house was as big at his actual house and that every kid who could go, went.

“It’s perfect,” Tony told Bucky, holding the orange and black invite in his fist. “We’ll all go. Have a few drinks, I’ll flirt with some football player, you catch me. We’ll have a big bust up and then you can go running to Steve for comfort.”

“Won’t you come out looking like a dick?” Bucky asked; people already had plenty of opinions on Tony and relationships and this would surely just add fuel to that fire.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure once you get with Steve, I’ll be on the receiving end of plenty of sexual sympathy.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Bucky pulled a disgusted face at him. “Don’t look at me like that, having a fake boyfriend has seriously killed my sex life.”

“You’re sixteen, you don’t have a sex life.”

“I’m fairly sure, that’s what I told my godfather that when he caught me in a compromising position with those cheerleading twins,” Tony said with a lecherous grin.

“You know what, any sympathy I had for you is gone; worn about by your lechery.”

Tony laughed and they fell into a comfortable silence. Bucky glanced out his passenger window as he turned onto the road leading to Tony’s house; Tony’s reflection catching his eye. The other boy was staring out the window, chin in hand. His mouth was turned down, his eyes tired looking. Bucky frowned.

“Hey, you OK?”

Tony twisted to look at him, smiling. “Yeah, always.”

Bucky blinked and nodded; maybe he had just imagined the weariness in Tony’s eyes. Tony turned away from him.

* * *

 

Tony had been dragged into helping Jan decorate the pool house much to Bucky’s amusement. So, Bucky arrived at the Halloween party with Steve. Bucky took the time to apologise to Steve for him walking in on him and Tony. He had been trying to talk Steve for a week but the blonde was surprisingly fast and sneaky when he wanted to be.

“It’s alright, I guess I just didn’t expect you two to be serious,” Steve said with a sigh. He was dressed as a soldier, his shield almost too big for him to carry.

“What you do mean?” Bucky asked.

“Well, you know.”

Bucky frowned, “No?”

“Well, Tony has a reputation,” Steve said, raising his eyebrows and blushing as if just talking about Tony caused him embarrassment. Bucky found himself scowling at his friend.

“And what does that have to do with our relationship.”

Steve made to reply but then locked his jaw shut and shook his head, “Sorry, you know it’s none of my business,” he smiled, the expression tight on his face, “If he makes you happy then I’m happy for you.”

Bucky almost pressed him, but then he remembered that he and Tony had a plan tonight and Tony was about to live up to Steve and everyone else’s worse opinions. Bucky trailed after Steve sighing, his stomach twisting uncomfortably.

Tony met him at the door, pressing a big, slobbering fake kiss into his cheek.  Steve glanced at them, his mouth twisting and quickly made his escape. Bucky found it easy to let the blonde walk away, still unsettled by Steve’s comments earlier.

“Aren’t you a dish,” Tony said against his neck, his breathwas bitter with the smell of whiskey.

Bucky pulled him away, looking at him. Tony let himself be manhandled easily, his eyes unfocused. He was wearing a red, twin-tailed jacket and a top hat that was tilting precariously on his head.

“I’m a ringleader.” Tony spun, gesturing wildly.

“How much have you had to drink?” Bucky asked, catching Tony as he tripped. Tony let Bucky hold him upright, his hands curling around Bucky’s wrists easily. Most people avoid touching’s Bucky’s metal arm, flinching if they accidentally made contact. Tony was the opposite, there was something reverent in the way his fingers stroked the prosthetic.

“Oh just a few shots, got to loosen up for my big performance.”

“Yeah, about that.” Bucky pulled Tony away from the crowd. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Steve had said. Tony had been so blasé, so amused by other people’s opinions of him but Bucky had seen the distaste, the distrust in his best friend’s eyes. Tony didn’t deserve any more of that aimed at him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be in the seating area. You and Steve come in from outside, you won’t be able to miss me. Be there at 11.” Tony curled his hand around Bucky’s, leaning backward to drag him along. “Now, let’s get you a drink, you look so nervous you might faint.”

Bucky let himself be led along, feeling a mixture of selfish want and guilt. Tony was smiling, happy. He didn’t mind, Bucky told himself. He probably thought this was all in good fun.

“Here, drink this.” Tony thrust a plastic cup into his hands, the alcohol in it was strong enough to make Bucky’s eyes water as he took a sip. “I’ll be over there, watch the clock.” And Tony gestured to the soft seating area swarming with footballer and cheerleaders. The clock on the wall said half ten.

With a squeeze of his arm, Tony was gone, slipping deftly through the crowds.  Bucky ran a nervous hand through his hair and downed the drink, coughing at its strength. He glanced behind him and picked up the bottle of whiskey.

Fifteen minutes later, Bucky and Steve were chatting in the kitchen. Steve seemed to be just as eager as Bucky to get drunk, which considering how thin he was meant Bucky was drinking half his drinks as well as his own in an effort to keep Steve from dying.

“Ugh, I didn’t know Tony was friends with Stone,” Jan said next to Bucky. She was staring over at the soft seating area, her arms folded and mouth twisted. Bucky would have thought she looked annoyed but he could see her fingers were tapping her arm and her eyebrows were drawn up worriedly.

Bucky glanced over to where Jan was looking. Tony was sitting on the end of the couch, trapped between the high chair-arm and Tiberius’s leering body. He looked relaxed, one arm loosely hanging down, holding his drink casually, his face smiling, dark eyes sultry as they watched from under those heavy sweeping lashes. Tiberius was buying it certainly, he had his hand on Tony’s thigh, one big hand squeezing hard.

Steve made a noise beside him, his eyes growing cold. It was all going exactly to plan and yet Bucky felt sick. He should be talking to Steve, looking hurt. He should be playing his part, instead, he found himself stepping forward.

Tony was leaning further into the arm of the couch, arching backwards. Aa Bucky closer, he could the tight lines around Tony’s eyes, the stiffness in his back. Tiberius' hand was moving upward and Tony battered it away with a nervous laugh.

“Oh don’t be like that Tony, no need to pretend you’re not gagging for it.”

Bucky saw red, he stepped up and knocked Tiberius’s hand away and grabbed Tony’s wrist, yanking him to his feet.  Tony shivered in his hands, automatically stepping closer to Bucky and Bucky couldn’t help but push himself in between Tony and Tiberius’ leering eyes.

Tiberius laughed, holding up his hands jovially. “Sorry Barnes, didn’t realise you weren’t finished with him yet.”

It was only Tony’s tight two-handed hold on his arm that stopped Bucky from punching the smug smirk off the bastard in front of them.

“Come on.” Tony hissed, “People are looking.”

Bucky stepped back. People were looking, a lot of people were watching and whispering. He felt himself tense, remembering the party at the beginning of the year. Now here he was doing it again. They were making a scene alright but not the one that they had meant to. Without a word, Bucky turned around and started to walk away. Tony trailed after him.

“Sorry, I messed that up,” Bucky said as they walked away.

Tony’s cheeks were flushed, “Yeah, you did a bit. It’s OK though, I’m fairly sure people will accept us breaking up. We can blame your obvious anger issues.”

Bucky blushed, “Look, let’s just…” he paused, about to say that they should just forget about their fake break up, “let’s just get a drink.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Bucky went back to the drinks table. Jan was waiting for them, she patted Tony fondly and told him to be careful.

“Where’s Steve?” Bucky asked.

“Oh, he’s with Sharon, I think.”

Bucky followed Jan’s pointed finger to the far corner of the room. Half hidden in the shadows, Steve and Sharon Carter were pressed up together. Sharon’s hands cradled Steve’s face as she leaned into him. His hand was curled around her waist. Her mouth on his mouth.

Bucky felt like a balloon that had popped, deflated and empty. He turned on heel and walked out the pool house, nearly knocking Jan over in his haste.

He walked to the end of the pool, sitting down on one of the squishy waterproof sun loungers. He was far enough away from the pool house that the noise was distant, a faint roaring of indistinguishable music and talking. Bucky breathed deeply.

“Hey, I thought you might want this.” A whiskey bottle was suddenly pushed up under his nose.  Bucky took the bottle and gulped it, gagging at the taste.

“I don’t know how you drink this,” Bucky said, pulling a face at the bottle.

Tony snorted, perching down next to him. Bucky moved over to give him more room and they sat, thighs touching, staring out at the floor lit pool.

Bucky took another big gulp of the whiskey, gagging.

“Pearls before swine,” Tony muttered, and took the bottle, taking a more delicate sip and smiling as if he actually liked it.

“You know.” Bucky told Tony quietly, “I had almost convinced myself that some of the things he was saying was because he was jealous. I guess this confirms that I was wrong.”

Tony sighed, “Love sucks.”

“Here, here,” Bucky said and they passed the whiskey bottle back and forth until the world’s sharp edges had gone fuzzy and the noise from the pool house sounded very far away.

“I think you’re much prettier than Sharon Carter.” Tony said suddenly, he was dropping with tiredness, his head lolling onto Bucky’s shoulder, “You had nice eyes and you pretend things don’t amuse you, but I can see your cheek dimpling.”

Bucky laughed, “My one weakness,” he slapped a hand over his cheek and Tony leaned in close, eyes narrowed before poking the other side of his face.

“Foiled again,” Bucky said, his voice was fading to a whisper. They were pressed close, their faces inches apart. Tony’s eyes were blown wide, big and brilliantly reflective in the dark night. Bucky wondered if they laid down if Tony’s eyes would be able to reflect the stars as he had done in the exhibition. Tony breathed heavily, his tongue darted out to lick his lip. He stretched suddenly,  pressing his mouth against Bucky’s.

Bucky froze, unmoving against Tony’s lips.

Tony pulled away, his face flushed red. “Sorry, I don’t know why – ”

Bucky grabbed the back of Tony’s head and dragged him close, kissing him hard. Tony whimpered, his eyes fluttering shut. The kiss softened between them, Bucky’s hands fisting into Tony’s hair. Tony wiggled closer, his arm looped around Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky pressed forward, his tongue slipping in between Tony’s lips. Tony opened beneath him invitingly and Bucky found himself moaning, pressing his advantage. At some point they titled backwards, lying, half slumped on the sun lounger, Bucky half sprawled over Tony, pressing down into him. Heat spread through him, down through his spine and curling up his toes. Bucky traced a hand down Tony’s slender torso, delighting in the way he shivered and whimpered up into his mouth.

A hand pressed into Bucky’s chest, pushing him back suddenly.  “wait. Wait.”

Bucky sat upright, blood and alcohol rushing to his head, making his vision swim. Tony was still lying flat on his back, hair fanned out around his glowing face like a dark halo.

“I’m sorry, you’re drunk and upset.” Tony scrambled upright, his face red, eyes pained.

“I want to kiss you,” Bucky told him honestly.

Tony laughed, “You wanted to kiss Steve two minutes ago.”

Bucky frowned, his sluggish thoughts unable to keep up. Tony sighed, running his hands over his face, “Look, let’s just get you home. I think we’ve both had too much.”

Bucky nodded in agreement. The movement, unfortunately, was too much and he felt his stomach roll. He groaned and looked up at Tony beseechingly.

Tony’s eyes widened, “Don’t you dare.”

Bucky bent over and promptly threw up all over Tony’s shoes.


	8. Chapter 8

 

“Shit.”

It took exactly two seconds of consciousness for Bucky to remember what the night before. He groaned and tried to smoother himself into the piles of pillows scattered around him.

He had kissed Tony, he had more than kissed Tony. And then he had thrown-up on him. Bucky’s toes curled in mortification. Tony must think he was so pathetic, leaping on him as soon as he’d had a drink. Tony was probably embarrassed for him, probably only kissed him out of pity. Bucky didn’t even know what had possessed him. No, actually that wasn’t true. He knew why he had kissed Tony, he had kissed Tony because he had wanted to kiss him; because some part of him had wanted to kiss Tony for a while.

Bucky pulled himself upright, wavering a little as his stomach and head rebelled sickly. For the first time, he realised he wasn’t in his room. Instead of his messy bed and minimal floor space, he was in a sprawling, high ceiling chamber; a full king-size bed looked out to a row of floor to ceiling windows. There was chaise lounge angled at the foot of the bed; an elaborate, imposing carved oak wardrobe; a literal chandelier. It didn’t take much to realise he was at Tony’s house. No one else had a house this big.

Hesitantly Bucky got out of bed, he was still dressed in his outfit from last night, it had twisted half off during the night and there was a suspicious looking stain down his front. Someone had placed a neatly folded shirt and jeans on the end of the bed and Bucky took them gratefully, pulling them on gingerly as his stomach threatened to rebel at the movement. He grabbed yesterday’s clothes and his shoes from the side of the bed and crept out of the room. Maybe if he was quiet, he could sneak out before he ran into Tony and avoid what he was sure would be a humiliating confrontation.

The hallway he found himself in was impossibly long, no obvious exit anywhere. In the distance Bucky could hear sounds of people moving around and followed the noise, feet padding softly on the carpet. He went down a set of stairs only to find himself in another confusing maze of corridors.

“Ah Mr. Barnes, you are awake.”

Bucky spun around to see a tall, thin, black-suited man watching him. The man quirked an eyebrow at him and tilted his head to the room he had come out of.

“This way please, breakfast is waiting for you.”

Bucky’s stomach took that moment to growl loudly and Bucky sighed in defeat and followed the man, not that there was anything else he could do.

The man turned out to be Jarvis, the Stark family butler and the room Bucky was led into a warm, expansive kitchen. The odd empty formality of the rest of the house was missing in the light-filled, warm kitchen and Bucky found himself relaxing as he dragged himself up onto a stool at the kitchen bar. Jarvis poured him a coffee without being asked and presented him with a plate full of eggs, bacon and toast.

Bucky took a tentative bite, shovelling as much as he could into his mouth once he realised he was going to be able to keep it down. “Thanks.” He mumbled at Jarvis.

Jarvis sighed, “You’re welcome Mr. Barnes. Tony mentioned you might be in need of something substantial when you woke up.”

At Tony’s name, Bucky flinched. His fingers itched, remembering the feel of Tony’s skin under him as Bucky held him down against the sunlounger. Jarvis’ sharp eyes watched him, and he tapped the kitchen counter, his lips pressed tight together.

Bucky met the man’s eyes, feeling as if he had been judged and found wanting. He frowned, hackles rising. “What?”

“Tony is very fond of you,” Jarvis said. Bucky blinked not expecting that answer, “he talks of you often.”

“He does?” The question was out of Bucky's mouth before he could stop himself.

Jarvis nodded, “He cares very deeply for you.”

“Oh, I like him too.” Bucky’s response sounded weak even to his own ears and he found himself blushing under Jarvis’ scrutiny, too confused to find any more eloquent words for the storm of feelings Tony had inspired in him lately.

“Mr. Barnes.” Jarvis said and there was something in his voice, a hard note of protective anger that made Bucky snap up and meet the old man’s eyes. “Tony has had enough heartbreak for a lifetime, I would ask that you do not lead him on if you cannot return his feelings.”

“I’m not…” Bucky’s words died in his mouth as he realised what Jarvis had said. Understanding dawned on him, like the sun creeping over the horizon. Tony had feelings for him. Suddenly his memories of last night seemed different, coloured differently by Jarvis’ revelation.

Tony had been drinking because he had been miserable, jealous. He had kissed Bucky back, he had more than kissed Bucky back. He had even been guilty, trying to stop Bucky because he felt that Bucky’s desire was caused by his hurt over Steve kissing Sharon.

Bucky stared at Jarvis mouth open and looked down at his hands. Tony liked him.

“Where is Tony?” Bucky asked Jarvis.

“In the sunroom.” Jarvis gestured to another door, “second door on the right.”

“Thanks, Jarvis,” Bucky got to his feet, moving quickly with a desperate need suddenly to see Tony. He paused in the doorway. “I’m not going to hurt him.” He said, hand tight on the door handle. He would have said more but the words were stuck in his throat.

Jarvis nodded in acceptance but his smile was small, unable or unwilling to believe.

* * *

 

The sunroom was a strange greenhouse-like room made of glass panes and white metal arches crawling with green vines. It overlooked a majestic lawn and sun seeped warm and golden across the floor. Sweet-smelling flowers and wicker furniture filled every available space and the faint trickle of a water fountain sounded soothing in the background.

Tony was curled up in a huge cushioned chair in the centre of the room, a tome balanced precariously on his knees. He looked soft, relaxed, skin glowing in the shafts of sunlight. Bucky paused to watch him, remembering the feel of Tony’s hair as he ran his hands through it.

“Hey, Tony.”

Tony jumped, sending the book falling to the ground with a bang. He cursed, scrambling on the floor to retrieve it. Bucky bent down to help and they both found themselves crouched low, hands touching as they reached for the book. Tony’s eyes met his, their faces only inches apart. His cheeks flushed and he shot upright, stepping away from Bucky and coughing nervously.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect you to be up yet.”

“Because of the bottle of whiskey, I drank?” Bucky said, placing the book on Tony’s vacated seat.

Tony’s laugh was strained, he ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, you were pretty drunk. How much do you remember about last night?”

His face was so carefully guarded, purposefully controlled into an expression of casual indifference but his eyes gave him away, big and dark and wanting. Bucky wanted to kiss him again, to break down the walls he could see Tony building between them. With confidence he didn’t really feel, Bucky stepped into Tony’s space. His flesh hand pushed the stray curl which had fallen into Tony’s eyes away, before cupping Tony's cheek.

Tony was staring at him, wide-eyed and dumb.

“I remember.” Bucky made to move closer, to kiss him but Tony stepped back. His hands up as if warding Bucky away.

“Stop. I don’t know what you think this is.” Tony was flushed, his jaw tight and jutted as if ready for a fight. “You don’t want me, you want Steve. I spent weeks listening to you tell me how you wanted Steve.”

“Tony.”

“I know what people say about me, but I’m not going to some booty call for you to use to get over Rogers.”

Bucky grabbed Tony’s arm. “Last night, I was upset when I saw Steve with Sharon.” Tony’s eyes flashed and he strained against Bucky’s grip, plucking at his fingers. Bucky reeled him in closer. “Please just let me finish. I was upset about Steve, but not half as upset as I was when I saw you with Tiberius. I nearly punched Stone just for looking at you. I couldn’t bear his hands on you.”

Tony had gone limp, staring at Bucky with those hungry, scared to hope eyes. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I don’t want to pretend date you.”

“Oh, well we don't have to...”

Bucky shook his head fiercely, "No, Tony. I don't want to pretend date you because I want to really date you. Will you go out with me?”

Tony, his arm still held tightly in Bucky’s hand, lurched forward, reaching out to Bucky’s face. Bucky had a single moment of realisation before they were kissing, Tony leaning up into Bucky and pressing his mouth hard against Bucky’s.

“I take that as a yes.” Bucky mumbled against Tony’s lips.

* * *

 

The sun was low in the sky, painting the edges of the garden beyond Tony’s window burnt gold when Bucky started to think about leaving. They had been lounging on Tony’s enormous bed, talking and exchanging lazy kisses when Bucky finally glanced over at his phone.

A string of texts from his mother and Steve made him sit up and text them back apologetically, explaining that he would be home soon. Tony watched him from his laid-back position on the pillows, a day of kissing had left his mouth red and swollen and Bucky wanted to press his thumb against his bottom lip to see if it was as hot as it looked.

“Just my mum worrying.”

Tony smiled, an easy, soft curl of his mouth. “She sounds nice. My Dad always thinks I’ve done something.”

Bucky let himself fall back into the pillows, brushing the hair out of Tony’s eyes gently, “Did you really get expelled from your past school?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tony hesitated, familiar wariness edging back into his expression. “My reputation is one that is fairly well earned.”

Bucky hummed, recognising the confessional tone in Tony’s voice, the expectation of rejection. He tugged at the curl he had pushed away from Tony’s eyes, “You’re not like that now. I bet you weren't even like that last year at our school.”

“Oh, I was even worse last year." Tony's laugh sounded strained. "But well, my mum had just died.”

Bucky froze, glancing up and staring at Tony is shock. He knew Tony’s father in the distant, oddly familiar way everyone knew famous people. But Tony’s mother had existed in his mind simply because someone must be Tony’s mother. Despite Tony’s casual words, his face was pale, his eyes tight and distant.

“How did it happen?” Bucky asked quietly.

Tony glanced back at him, smiling fleetingly in the way people do sometimes when faced with grief so painful they can’t comprehend it. “Last winter, there was a storm, my father was driving them home but it was dark and he couldn’t see properly. Some arsehole cut them up and my dad lost control of his car, verging off the road and into a tree.  The passenger side of the car was crushed.”

Bucky tugged Tony to him and Tony went limp, sinking into his arms and letting his head fall into Bucky’s chest, burying his face in the soft material of his shirt. “I’m sorry Tony.” He said, stroking Tony’s dark hair.

Tony shivered against him, his voice was muffled, rough sounding. “I miss her. My dad, he acts like she never even exists. The day after her funeral he went straight back to New York, to work, he didn’t even cry. He won’t talk about her. He’s barely ever here anymore and when he is all we do is fight.”

Bucky was stroking Tony’s hair, his chest tight with sympathy. Tony so rarely mentioned his family; no one would ever know what he had lost. He felt a surge of anger at the people who judged Tony harshly, who had written off his behaviour as that of a spoiled rich kid. And at Howard Stark who had left his son to struggle through his grief alone, broken up by brief episodes of cruelty. Bucky kissed the top of Tony’s head.

“I’m here now.” He murmured, “You can talk to me about her as much as you want.”

 Tony pressed himself further into Bucky’s torso, his back shuddering. Neither one of them mentioned the damp streaks he left on Bucky’s T-shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, we made it! Tony and Bucky together! and yet, there is half a fic to go.... 
> 
> Thank you for everyone who commented, it is very motivating and I can't wait to hear what you think after this one!


	9. Chapter 9

 

Despite the easy, lazy Sunday they had spent together at Tony’s house, it quickly became apparent that was a bashful awkwardness between Bucky and Tony that hadn’t existed before.

Bucky’s skin felt electric when Tony touched him, painful sensitive. He found himself getting tongue-tied when they talked and would sit silent and dazed as he watched Tony chatter to Jan and Bruce at lunch. Bucky’s entire body had become attuned to Tony and he seemed to be aware of any small movement the boy made, skin on fire when their hands brushed. He wanted to touch Tony, he wanted to do a lot more than touch Tony but he felt clumsy, cumbersome when he was near him.

And Bucky couldn’t help but remembered the rumours of Tony’s many, past relationships, he felt inadequate. Bucky didn’t know what he was doing and he didn’t want Tony to laugh at him or to think of him just another one of briefly interesting people that drifted in and out of his life.

Steve had noticed Bucky’s strange new attitude, sending him enquiring looks when he thought Bucky was distracted. They didn’t talk about it. Bucky wanted to talk to Steve, to ask his advice, he wasn’t sure how he could without admitting to everything that happened previously. Besides, Steve was preoccupied with continuing the tryst with Sharon they had started at Jan’s Halloween party.

Sharon was more reserved than Steve, watching as he fumbled for her attention with aloof fondness. She hadn’t known Bucky as anything more than a passing acquaintance before his accident and she approached him carelessly, making jokes that made Steve tense up, obviously conflicted. Bucky suspected he might grow to like Sharon when he figured out how to stop feeling the strange, conflicted churn of emotions she inspired in him.  But at least, Steve had seemed to relax around Tony. It may have had something to do with the easy familiarity Tony had with Sharon. Bucky wasn’t entirely sure how Sharon and Tony knew each other, something about Sharon’s aunt being old friends with Howard.

“Honestly Barnes,” Jan said one lunchtime, sharp elbow digging into Bucky’s rib as she sank down next to him. He glanced at her, pulling a face and making a show of rubbing his side. Jan ignored him. “You’re more lovesick than ever, I can’t stand watching you.”

Bucky glanced back over the table to where Tony and Bruce were pouring over some sort of science magazine, Tony gestured excitedly, his cheek flushed. He looked beautiful, impossibly vibrant despite the mundane, grey surrounding. 

“You know, there’s a fair in town at the moment,” Jan said casually, her voice low. “Could be a nice time if you want to treat your boyfriend.”

Bucky blushed at the word boyfriend. Before it had been funny, an amusing joke that no one else was in on but now it was real. Tony was his boyfriend, they were dating. His mind caught up to what Jan had actually been saying and he looked over at her. She was waiting for his response, her fingers tapping away at her phone idly.

“This weekend?” Bucky asked. Jan made a quiet noise of confirmation and Bucky nodded.  He should take Tony on a date, like a real date not just trips to coffee shops on their way to school.

As if Tony could hear his thoughts, he turned around to meet Bucky’s eyes, his eyebrows raised enquiring. Bucky felt his heart flutter a little.

Jan made a quiet gagging noise next to him.

* * *

 

“So, where are we going?” Tony asked when Bucky came to pick him that night. The nights had been growing colder since Halloween and Tony at Bucky’s instruction was wrapped up warmly, a bright red scarf wound loosely around his neck and spilling up over his chin and mouth.

“It’s a surprise,” Bucky told him.

“Said the kidnapper.”

He glanced over but Tony smiled easily up at him, unconcerned.

“No one would want the trouble of kidnapping you, too much talking,” Bucky told him seriously.

“Hey! I’ll have you I’m a very desirable kidnapping target!”

“Stop you’ll make me jealous.”

“You should be, there’s a whole line of kidnappers waiting for me. I don’t have to put up with this second-rate kidnapping, you know.”

Bucky laughed, not bothering to reply as they had turned up at the fairgrounds, his car wheels struggling as they were directed to park on slippery grass.  Stretched out before them, hazy twinkling lights and brightly coloured tents welcomed them. Even from inside the car Bucky could smell sweet popcorn and hear the excited babble of people laughing and shouting.

Tony was staring out the front window; most of his face was covered, hidden by his scarf and the rest of his expression was frozen as if he wasn’t sure what he felt. Bucky reached over, gently pulling down the red scarf so he could see Tony’s lips shaped into a little surprised ‘o’. “What do you think?” he asked Tony softly, fingers still hooked in Tony’s scarf, brushing the heated skin of his throat.

 “Perfect.” Tony breathed.

“Perfect for a first date?” Bucky asked again, stumbling a little on the word date. 

Tony’s mouth pressed fleetingly against his cheek, grazing the corner of his mouth. Tony’s breath was hot, a quiver of air tickling his ear. “perfect.” He repeated.

* * *

 

Tony was fearless. His first stop was the biggest roller-coaster at the park, unconcerned as it groaned and clunked worryingly. Bucky’s stomach was in his throat but Tony’s eyes were wild with delight as their carriage titled precariously over the first big dip. “I’ve always wanted to fly,” Tony shouted, his voice snatched away by the wind as they fell.

Bucky sat firmly on the ground while Tony went on roller-coaster a second time. Something about the feeling of falling, of having no control made him feel sick, shaky. His forehead was wet with perspiration when he ran his hand over his skin and Bucky frowned looking at his palm. For a moment there was snow on his fingers, melting wetly across his hand. Bucky’s heart lurched and then the image passed: his hand empty once again. He turned it over, staring at it sickened, unsure what had happened.

“Hey, hey, Bucky.” Tony’s hand touched his shoulder tentatively and Bucky lurched upright, nearly bowling the other boy over. Tony stepped away, hands raised as if Bucky was a wild animal he had approached badly.

“Sorry, sorry, you scared me.” Bucky took Tony’s wrist pulling him closer. Tony relaxed slowly, worried in his arms, his head resting on Bucky’s chest. Beneath Tony’s head, Bucky’s heart was jackrabbit, almost fit to bursting.

“Shall we get some cotton candy?” Tony asked, his hands gently stroking Bucky’s back. Bucky nodded and they wandered off. Tony tentatively threaded their fingers together, and Bucky too shaken to feel embarrassed just squeezed happily back.

The cotton candy was brilliant pink, dissolving almost as soon as it touched Bucky’s tongue. His moment of panic faded like a bad memory and in minutes he was holding the bag above Tony’s head out of his reach and making exaggerated sounds of pleasure as he ate.

Tony wrapped himself around Bucky’s middle, arms clawing at his forearm, hanging off him as if his weight could drag him down. One of his legs wrapped around the back of Bucky’s shins, dragging them closer. Bucky wobbled, his metal arm stretched out to balance them and his other wrapped around Tony, holding him steady. They were close, close enough that Bucky could make out the individual hairs in the heavy sweep on Tony’s eyelashes and the moisture on his lips as he licked them. Heat pooled in Bucky’s stomach and his fingers clenched into the thick material of Tony’s coat, holding tighter, dragging him closer

Tony made a little desperate sound and then they were kissing again. It wasn’t like there other kisses, needy and sloppy and desperate. It was soft, tentative, Tony’s tongue was hesitant, edging into Bucky’s mouth, seeking permission. They kissed slowly, savouring the gentle opening of each other.

Bucky pulled away after a couple of long minutes, breathless. Tony was flushed, his cheeks glowing pink, his eyes soft and liquid as he met Bucky’s gaze. The days of awkwardness seemed to melt between and Bucky hands were greedy, needy as he surged forward pushing Tony to the side and into a small dark corner of the fair. His hands were deft, easily sliding inside Tony’s coat. Their mouths met once again, Tony gasping slightly as Bucky’s cold fingers met skin. He shivered and Bucky whimpered as he moved against him.

“Fuck.” Said Tony, one of his hands had made its way to Bucky’s hair, tugging at him demanding. Bucky laughed down at him.

“Guess I finally figured out how to slow that mouth of yours down.”

Tony stuck out his tongue. Bucky kissed him again quickly before he could start berating him.

Without breaking their kiss, Bucky manoeuvred them so Tony was pressed up against a thick wooden pole.  Tony’s hands were in his hair, cupping his face and Bucky’s were curled around his waist. They moved against each other, hot despite the cold night. Bucky could Tony’s hardness through his jeans and shuddered at the sensation, and sliding down to drag their hips closer together.

A sharp, piercing whistle, followed by a mocking symphony of laughter broke through their private moment. They broke apart and glanced over to see a group of teenagers giggling as they passed by, pointing.

“Oh.” Tony’s face was flushed, the pink in his cheeks obvious even in the dark corner of the fair. He put a hand on Bucky’s chest and pushed firmly, forcing distance between them.  The skin around Tony’s eyes looked pinched, his jaw hard as he ground his teeth together.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Bucky asked. He wondered if he had embarrassed Tony; if he was a bad kisser. Tony probably thought making out at a fairground was completely juvenile. 

“Nothing,”  Tony said. His hands fumbled with his coat zipper and it slipped once, twice from his chilled fingers. Bucky reached out to help and Tony slapped his hand away, saying sharply, “I’ve got it.”

Bucky stepped back, irritated. “What was that?”

Tony sighed, dropping his hands, “Look I know what everyone says about me.”

Bucky blinked, thrown off by the sudden change in topic. He made a confused rumble but Tony carried on, face harden and stubborn.

“I know everyone thinks I’m a slut, that I sleep around-“

“Hey, I never said that!”

“You didn’t need to.” Tony snapped. “I know what people say at school. I can tell from the way Rogers looks at me, like I’ve offended his delicate sensibility or that I might infect him.”

Bucky winced. “I don’t care, you know I don’t care about what you did before.”

Tony seemed if anything to get more annoyed, puffing up like a cornered cat. His eyes flashed. “I haven’t done anything! I haven’t slept with anyone, it's just some crappy rumour that people were so quick to believe because it was it me.”

“Oh…” Bucky mind reeled slightly, guilt and pity a strange churning mix in his belly. Tony was frozen in front of him, holding himself stiff as if waiting for bad news. Bucky spoke softly, slowly. “I believe you. You know I don’t mind either way right? I’m crazy about you whatever.”

“Oh.”

Bucky smiled, reaching out carefully and projecting his movements so Tony could step away if wanted “Besides, I’m still worrying about if I’m kissing right.”

Tony snorted, “You really don’t need to worry about kissing. Although, I’m happy to keep practicing with you if you want more experience.”

“I think it’s our only option,” Bucky said solemnly.

Tony laughed again and edged closer. He unravelled before Bucky, tension seeping out of his limbs and dropped his head forward so his face was buried into Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky wrapped an arm around him, pressing his mouth into Tony’s hair. He just wanted to wrap the other boy up and keep him safely tucked away from the rest of the entire, unfair world.

* * *

 

After their date, things changed.

Knowing that they were both virgins seemed to ease Bucky and Tony’s worries about what the other thought. His lack of self-consciousness coupled with the sexual tension that had building since they first met made Bucky insatiable. He felt like a starving man and Tony wasn’t much better.

Bucky had always known that Tony was attractive but he had never wanted to feel the softness of his skin before or wanted to hear Tony moan. They got caught twice making out in empty classrooms, Bucky’s hand straying up Tony’s shirt and Tony legs spread welcoming.

They spent a lot of time at Tony’s house. Bucky was the one with the car so it was easier for him to travel and, he found himself not wanting to leave Tony alone in the big empty mausoleum. They spent most of their time in Tony’s bed, exploring each other with a fumbling eagerness but they also played in the manor’s pool and roamed the increasingly frosted gardens.

It was at the Stark manor that Bucky met Obadiah Stane. The man appeared, a dark shadow in the doorway as they lazed in the garden. He was a giant of a man with a polished, salesman’s shark smile and hands that seemed to engulf Tony as he ran up to hug the man.

Obadiah chuckled, gripping Tony’s chin in his large fingers and forcing him to look up. He looked down at Tony with a curious intensity, his smile curved into something softer, fonder as his pale eyes searched Tony’s face. He reminded Bucky of the scientists and doctors that worked on his arms.

“You look happy, Anthony,” Obadiah said and Tony beamed at him.

Bucky watched them, his neck itched and he found himself wanting to pluck Tony away from the man and hide him away. Tony, oblivious to his thoughts was dragging Obadiah towards him, having to lean almost horizontally to move the man.

“Bucky, this is Obadiah my godfather and Howard’s business partner. Obie, this is Bucky, my boyfriend.”

Obadiah assessed Bucky, his strange cold eyes dragging across his face. For a moment there was recognition in them and then it disappeared and Obadiah held out his hand, his smile stretched shark-like across his face. “Nice to meet you.”

Bucky took his palm and they stared at each other a moment before Obadiah dropped his hand and turned back to Tony, dismissing him. “I assume Howard doesn’t know of this development.”

Tony’s smile dropped off his face, “You’re not going to tell him are you?”   

Obadiah smiled again, his hand heavy on Tony’s head as he ruffled his hair, making Tony bow down under his weight. “Of course not. Now, why don’t you show me what you’ve been working on?”

Tony beamed and bounced off, darting around Obadiah and Bucky like a dog too excited to stay with one person.

Tony took them both to the workshop and Bucky felt a moment of sick jealousy when he realised that Tony hadn’t taken him here before. The lights flickered on around them illuminated a chaotic chrome filled space. For a moment Bucky froze, seeing instead of Tony’s tools the hospital emergency room where they had laid him down and cut into him.

Tony’s excited voice dragged him back to reality and Bucky let himself lean against the wall, his legs weak. In front of him, Obadiah was gently chastising Tony as they examined a knee-high robot.

“It’s not much but it’s the first AI I’ve made.” Tony tried to say.

“Tony, Tony, Tony. Stark Industries is a weapons company, as nice as your little projects are, Howard’s not going to want anything else.”

Tony gnawed at his thumb, obviously wanting to protest but holding back, staring between Obadiah and the twitching robot. “Yeah, I guess.”

Obadiah patted Tony on the shoulder, “Give me a call when you have something else to show me, OK?”

Obadiah smiled at Bucky on his way past, Tony still staring at his robot behind them, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes.”

It was only much later that Bucky realised, he had never given Obadiah his last name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens. Thank you for all your comments, it really does brighten my day!


	10. Chapter 10

 

Tony’s features were tight with anger, his mouth an upside arch and eyebrows drawn low over his eyes. He hadn’t spoken to Bucky the whole ride and Bucky was getting increasingly irritated by his childish sulking.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Bucky said sharply as they pulled up to into the parking lot. In front of them stood the quaint Italian restaurant; it felt to Bucky more like a gauntlet than a nice evening.

“I’m not looking at you in any particular way.” Tony’s vowels sounded clipped and proper, a sure sign of his anger; Bucky hated when he used that voice.

“Oh, so now you’re talking.” Bucky snapped back, “I thought you were going to sulk the whole evening. Although maybe Steve and Sharon would prefer that.”

Tony sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth, harsh and unhappy. He turned away from Bucky but not before Bucky saw the hint of hurt flash across his face. Bucky sighed, feeling like an asshole. He reached for Tony, resting a hand on his tense, bony shoulder. Despite his attitude, Tony had dressed smartly, tight crisp trousers and shirt made of such fine cotton it looked almost silky.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just… I just don’t know what’s going on. You said you were ok with going on a double date with Steve and Sharon.”

Tony twisted around, his expression wary. “I was before you spent half an hour talking about which outfit Steve would like the most.” Tony ran his hands through his hair, “Look I spent months with you pining over Rogers and I just… I hate hearing you talking about him like that.”

“You were jealous.” Said Bucky with dawning realisation, his eyes flickering to the restaurant. He could see the faint outline of Steve and Sharon sat uncomfortably alone a table for four.

Tony hunched, and Bucky was reminded yet again of the way Tony hide his insecurities and vulnerabilities behind his image of a prickly, arrogant, playboy. Tony wasn’t just jealous, he was scared. Scared that Bucky would leave him.

Bucky grabbed the back of Tony’s head, dragging him close to press his mouth hard against his. Tony strained against him slightly, a noise of surprise escaping him at the hard kiss. Slowly like the unwinding of coils, he relaxed, hands fisting in Bucky’s shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispered against his mouth. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He glanced back at the restaurant, Steve was stretching out of his seat, staring at them. Bucky gnawed at his lip. “We can leave if you want, I’ll tell Steve I felt ill.”

Tony hesitated, obviously considering it for a moment. “No, it’s fine. Sorry I was being a girl.” He unclipped his seatbelt, shaking himself as if preparing for a run. He smiled, his expression a little forced. “Besides I don’t want to give Steve a reason to hate me any more than he does.”

Bucky followed Tony lead, turning off the car and unclipping his seatbelt. “He doesn’t hate you.”

Tony gave Bucky a disbelieving look.

“He just needs to get to you know you that’s all,” Bucky said. Even to his own ears, he sounded unconvincing.

Steve was clinging on to old ideas about Tony, nothing Bucky said seemed to reach him. Bucky just didn’t understand it; when pressed Steve had given him some half-baked spiel about Tony’s exploits last year while Bucky was in the hospital. Bucky, knowing how complicated Tony’s home life had been and still was, was quick to pull apart Steve’s reasons but it didn’t seem to change Steve’s mind. His best friend looked like he was sucking lemons when Tony was around, there was just something about Tony that made Steve uncomfortable. Steve was a lot of good things but he was stubborn to a fault and Bucky was getting annoyed at how it was starting to strain his and Tony’s relationship. Bucky had tried to balance Steve and Tony but with the way they both were he found that he was always letting one of them down. Bucky just wanted things to be easy.

Sharon and Steve smiled up at them as they sat down.

“Didn’t think you were coming for a moment then.” Said Steve.

“Blame Bucky.” Tony said lightly, “He has more stamina than expected.”

Steve's mouth quivered, obviously wanted to curl up in distaste. Bucky sighed, he was annoyed at Steve but Tony didn’t make it any easier: he seemed to have decided that if Steve didn’t like him, he was going to do his best to annoy the blonde.

“Shall we order.” Said Sharon gently, one hand resting on Steve’s forearm. Bucky could have kissed her.

The date got marginally easier as it went along. Tony and Sharon had known each other since they were kids and Sharon had come prepared with baby pictures. Bucky took her phone curiously, laughing at the tiny child beaming up at the camera, his face smeared with chocolate. Even as a chocolate covered toddler in a blurry picture, it was undeniable Tony.

Tony groaned in embarrassment and Bucky couldn’t resist dropping a kiss into the corner of his mouth.

“So, you spent a lot of time with Sharon’s family?” Steve asked politely. Tony looked at him warily, his back tense beneath Bucky’s hand. Bucky didn’t understand what Steve had done wrong but Tony was scowling, his eyes narrowed.

Sharon made a little noise, “My aunt was close friends with Tony’s father. They worked together when they were younger.” She flicked her phone, holding up another photo. A young Tony, not much bigger than a toddler, was holding a circuit board up for inspection, looking uncomfortable in a stiff looking suit. In the background, Bucky recognised the blurred figures of Obadiah Stane and Howard Stark. Howard was turned away, his back already to Tony. Obadiah was looking over at the boy, his eyes silvery, reflecting the flash of the camera.

Tony made a noise of embarrassment when he saw the picture.

“What is it?” Steve asked.

“My first introduction to the press. Something about setting me up as my father’s heir for the company and his intelligence.”

“He made that circuit board when he was four,” Sharon added quietly.

Steve’s eyes darted up to Tony, looking vaguely impressed and Tony turned his head away from Steve’s curious gaze.

“I am very intelligent.” He told Bucky.

Bucky smiled, “I remember, I think you put yourself in my phone as ‘Genius boyfriend.’”

“Need to remind you how much of a catch I am, so you don’t get complacent.”

Bucky squeezed Tony’s thigh under the table, smiling at over exaggerated way he titled up his head, nose in the air.

Across the table, Steve turned his gaze away from them, eyes troubled.

* * *

 

“Thank you,” Bucky told Tony later, pressing butterfly soft kisses down Tony’s throat. Tony shivered against him, whining eagerly. His hand was fisted, as usual, in Bucky’s hair, trying to tug him where he wanted him to go.

“I really appreciate it,” Bucky whispered. “Thank you for doing that for me.”

“Anything.” Tony gasped, arching his back in a delicious line, pressing up into Bucky. “Anything you want.”

“I just want you,” Bucky said and the truth of his words rang in his ears. He stopped his kissing and let himself slump onto Tony, holding him tight. They hadn’t been dating for a long time, hadn’t even been faking dating for a long time and yet Bucky couldn’t imagine a world without Tony. Downstairs the sound of his mother padding around drifted up to them and they exchanged guilty looks.

Tony’s split in a smile, gently sniggers escaping him. Bucky found himself laughing as well and they shushed each other like naughty children making each other laugh louder until Bucky put his hand over Tony’s mouth, tears in his eyes.

Tony kissed Bucky’s palm gently, his eyes huge, framed between Bucky’s hand and his sweat-damp curls.

“You’re all I want as well,” Tony whispered into his palm, Bucky felt rather than heard the sound and his heart seemed to pluck a rhythm to Tony’s voice, echoing the flow of his words.

Bucky moved his hand, sliding it down to cup Tony’s face. His boyfriend was so beautiful, a tormented complex mess and Bucky felt so content, so lucky, he felt drunk with happiness.

“You’ve got me.” He told Tony. “Always.”

* * *

 

A few days later, Tony invited Bucky back into the workshop, their fingers tangling together as Tony led his down.

“Are you going to show me your robot?” Bucky asked curiously.

“Oh no.” Tony glanced at him, biting his lip guilty. “Actually, I was hoping you’d let me look at your arm.”

Bucky stopped dead, the sudden movement jolting Tony and sending him wobbling. “What?” his voice a rasp of panic.

Tony stepped closer, “Please just let me look at it. I could do some scans, make you a better one.”

Bucky clutched his arm defensively, “This one is fine.”

“It hurts you, I know it hurts you.” Tony pressed and Bucky found himself scowling the intensity in Tony’s eyes.

“Maybe I don’t want you working on my arm.” He snapped, regretting it immediately when Tony reeled back.

“Oh.”

“Tony, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Tony was silent, his lips a flat, unreadable line. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” Bucky sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I have to go for these tests all the time and I hate them. The scientists stare at me like a bug, an experiment. I don’t feel human when I’m with them. I don’t want to associate you with them,”

Tony’s hands were on Bucky’s face, tracing the panes of his face with delicate soothing movements. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I just don’t like seeing you in pain and I know I could build something better.”

Bucky sighed. “You can do one scan of it. One.”

Tony threaded their fingers back together, pressing a gentle kiss against the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Bucky thought back to how Tony had told him about his mother. Tony had trusted him and Bucky realised he trusted Tony back.

The workshop was as metallic and inorganic as Bucky remembered but this time the squeaking sound of wheels and chirping met them as they entered. The robot Tony had been showing Obadiah rolled over to them, moving its single clawed arm in what Bucky thought was an appropriation of a wave.

Tony blushed next to, “I know what Obadiah said but I just - ”

“No.” Bucky cut Tony off, crouching down so he could peer at the curious robot. It titled its body like a dog tilting its head in curiosity and chirped. “No, I think he’s wonderful.”

“His name’s Dummy. He’s a pile of junk really.” Tony explained with a smile, the fondness in his voice betraying his feelings despite his harsh words. “He’s still better than half the rubbish all those MIT students are making though.”

Bucky glanced at him, the reference to MIT making him consider for the first time that they wouldn’t be at school forever. In fact, there was less than a full year left. Tony would be going off to some fancy college where he would amaze all his professors and Bucky, well Bucky didn’t have any money to afford college and any chance of a sports scholarship had gone with his arm.

Bucky forced himself to smile, trying to hide the rising tide of panic. “That’s great Tony.”

Tony looked over at him sharply, hearing the edge to his voice. “If you don’t feel good, we don’t have to do this.”

“No,” Bucky said, grateful that Tony didn’t see the selfish fear in him. “No, let’s do it. I’m ready.”

The actual scan was fairly simple, Tony had made a strange circular tube that Bucky laid his arm and a laser swiped up and down slowly, twisting a degree and repeating the process. Tony rubbed the back of his neck apologetically.

“Sorry, it might take a while.”

Bucky smiled, “it’s fine, you best entertain me though.”

Tony stepped forward, into the open space between Bucky’s spread legs. “I might have some ideas. I am a genius after all.”

They kissed slowly, Tony teasing Bucky and chiding him when he tried to move. Bucky ended up feeling like he was going to burst, his skin over sensitive as Tony sucked at his neck and kissed his shoulders.

“When this is over, you’re going to be sorry.” He gasped, holding tight to his chair as Tony ran a fleeting hand over his thighs.

Tony laughed, “promises, promises.”

The machine beeped, shutting down with a whirl and Bucky shot up, one arm grabbing Tony by the waist and surging forward pressing him against the table behind them. Tony gave a sound of discomfort when the table hit edge hit the small of his back and Bucky kissed his apologetically, hands cupping his bum and lifting him so he was perched on the table, legs spread wide to accommodate Bucky.

Then stopped talking soon after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little fluffy chapter, thanks as always for all the comments! We are getting close now!  
> As you may have guessed this fic will be first of two. That decision will make sense hopefully when we reach the end of this fic!


	11. Chapter 11

 

“So how did you and Bucky meet?”

Bucky glanced over his kitchen table at Tony, hoping his mother couldn’t see the panic in his eyes. Tony ignored him, smiling with his careful, press-ready smile and setting his knife and fork down neatly as he turned to Bucky’s mother. This was a side of Tony that Bucky rarely saw, the polished, rich society boy with his perfect table manner and clipped vowels and fake, perfect smiles. He wasn’t sure he liked it but his mother seemed charmed.

“We share an art class. I knew I liked him when Bucky's was the only picture the teacher hated more than mine.”

Bucky blinked, he had taken an art class last year before his accident. He’d decided on the class entirely because of Steve, not remembering his complete lack of talent and hatred of all arty. He didn’t remember Tony being there. Although that didn’t mean much, considering Bucky’s amnesia. Tony had joined the school just before Bucky’s accident, maybe they really had shared an art class.

“I think the teacher cried with relief when we were told Bucky wasn’t going to finish the year with us.”

His mother was sniggering, her hand covering her mouth apologetically at the look Bucky threw her way.

“I can’t believe you’re making jokes at a cripple’s expense.” Bucky interrupted Tony, glowering. Tony had become quickly immune to Bucky’s scowls and waved him away easily.

“I’m surprised you’re still surprised. Besides the metal arm’s a good look, you’re a less coherent version of the terminator.”

“I’m starting to worry about those poor robots you keep at home,” Bucky replied back easily.

Bucky’s mother was outright laughing now, her face lit up and flushed. Bucky realised guilty he didn’t remember the last time he had seen her laugh like this.  She was so often tense, coiled tight with worry and fear. Usually because of him. Bucky promised himself he would be kinder to her, make her laugh more. She deserved it.

“Stop, stop.” Bucky’ mother said, patting Tony’s hand gently. “You’ll make him sulk all night.”

Tony’s picture-perfect smile wobbled slightly at her touch, his eyes pained, hungry. He had looked like that when Bucky had first introduced him to his mother and Bucky knew Tony was thinking of his own mother, missing her. Bucky coughed loudly, drawing their attention.

“Dessert?” he asked, standing up. Both the occupants at the table declined, slipping back into easy conversation and he collected their plates and took them to the kitchen counter at the back of the room.

“So Tony, what are your plans after school?”

“Oh erm.” For the first time that night Tony stumbled, hesitating. He rubbed his fingers together, the movement stuttering over the swell of his knuckle. “Well, my father wants me to take a business course and then come and work for him.”

“That sounds very exciting.” Bucky mother replied politely, not noticing Tony’s expression.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Will you take over Stark Industries one day?”

“That’s what he expects,” Tony said it softly and Bucky found himself watching the minute cracks in Tony’s carefully controlled mask, underneath his smiling face were slivers of dread staining the dark swirl of his eyes.

Bucky found himself frustrated all the sudden, confused. Tony never did anything he didn’t want to. Part of the reason why people at school found him so fascinating was the totally unique path he cut through their social classes, the way he bypassed, without a care, the polite, small talk they made. Tony always did what he wanted, not what was expected and now here he was telling Bucky’s mother that he was going to follow like a sheep in his father’s footsteps, dreading and hating every moment of it but doing it anyway because his father expected it.

Bucky wanted to shake the boy. He wanted to punch the man who’d made Tony feel that way.

“You’re full of shit,” Bucky told Tony later that night.

They were laying in the dark, legs entwined under the covers. Tony made a sleepy, querying sound.

“About following in your father’s footsteps. You don’t want to do that.”

Tony made another noise, sharp, more awake. His feet drew away and Bucky could feel him emotionally retreating, building up walls. Bucky turned over, pulling Tony close, not letting him escape.

“What do you really want to do?”

“What?”

“I said what do you really want to do.”

Tony was tense in his grasp. “What does it matter what I want. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m Tony Stark, my father is Howard Stark and I don’t have a lot of choice in anything.”

“Bullshit.” Bucky hissed, “You’re the smartest person I know. You made a circuit board before most kids can write their names. You made an AI robot for fun. You made a machine to take a scan of my arm. You’re the smartest person I know. You could do anything you want. So, what do you want?”

For a long moment, Tony was silent, frozen in Bucky’s grasp and gaping like a fish. Bucky suspected no one had ever asked Tony what he wanted from the future, instead piling demands and expectations on the boy.

Tony shivered, his voice quiet as if he was scared of being overheard. “I want to make things. I want… I want to go to MIT.”

Bucky positively glowed, his heart feeling like it was swelling up. “You can do that.”

Tony seemed to gain confidence from his confession, tilting his head so he was staring into Bucky’s face, the dark blurring his features. “I don’t want to run Stark Industries, I don’t want to work for my dad.”

“You can do that too.”

“I want something of my own. I don’t want to make weapons, I want to make other things, more interesting things.”

“You can do that,” Bucky repeated, and Tony reached out, fumbling until he was threading their fingers together and clinging on tightly.

“I want you to come with me. I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Bucky pressed a faint, gentle kiss onto Tony’s cheek. “I can do that.”

* * *

 

Bucky didn’t mention it to Tony but it the anniversary of his accident loomed alongside the Christmas holiday. They had found Bucky frozen and alone in the snow in the early hours of the 17th December and Bucky had spent Christmas day in a medically induced coma, in too much pain to stay conscious. The memory of it was like ash on his tongue and he found himself slipping more, remembering the pain and the fear. He didn’t want to tell Tony, didn’t want to ruin their first Christmas together.

Besides Tony seemed was struggling as well, he had ever since the dinner with Bucky’s mother. Bucky wasn’t sure if his mother had brought back memories of his own mother or if it was the idea of Christmas without her that made Tony sad. He wondered if she had died before or after Christmas, Tony had never mentioned it beyond her death being in winter. In school, Tony appeared distracted, sad but when asked he would just shake his head and say he was tired. If Bucky hadn’t been so on edge he would have pressed more, tried to support Tony, but he felt like broken glass, glued back poorly together and unable to take any strain.

The memory of Bucky’s accident was obviously fresh in Steve’s mind as well. For the first time since he and Sharon had got together her, Steve ditched her at lunch to spend it with Bucky. He followed him like a shadow in class, picking up books for him and getting him water. Steve’s care had been sweet when he’d first had his accident, necessary, but Bucky quickly felt smothered, babied and patronised.

“Will you fucking stop,” Bucky said, finally snapping when Steve tried to carry his gym back. He snatched it out of Steve’s hand, “I can carry my bag.”

Steve flinched, “Sorry, I was just trying to help.”

“I’m not a fucking invalid. Stop treating me like one.” He pushed Steve aside, not wanting to hear his response and stalked off down the corridor. Suddenly he wanted Tony, he wanted to be in Tony’s arms, to hide from the world and from the dull ache in his shoulder which seemed worse with each passing day.

Bucky hadn’t given Tony a lift to school that morning, Tony vaguely mentioning that he had an appointment and Bucky should go ahead without him. Bucky hadn’t expected he could miss someone after only one day apart.

Tony was leaning against Bucky’s car, his face half hidden beneath the coils of his ridiculous red scarf. Seeing him, Bucky felt like he could he breathe again. He threw himself at Tony, burying his face in Tony’s neck.

“Whoa,” Tony said, wobbling at the unexpected hug. He wrapped his arms around Bucky automatically, squeezing tightly at the little unhappy whimper Bucky made. “Bad day?” He asked softly, petting the back of Bucky’s hair.

Bucky nodded, the movement of his head limited due to the narrow space between Tony’s face and his collarbone. “Steve is annoying me.”

“That’s just his personality.”

Bucky pulled back, feeling tongue-tied with irritation. He wanted to spill out everything, that he hadn’t slept for a week from the memories of his crash. That he kept breaking out into a cold sweat, memories just out of reach. That his mother looked ready to cry every time she looked at him.

Tony’s icy fingers captured his face forcing Bucky to look at him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

An explanation was on the tip of Bucky’s tongue, Tony would understand if he explained the anniversary of his accident was coming up. That he felt terrified and angry, worst than he had been in months. Tony leaned up and for the first time that day Bucky got a good look at his face. The words died in his mouth.

“What the fuck is that!” he snarled, angry rough hands reaching out and dragging the scarf off Tony’s neck. Tony made a noise of panic, flinching away, hand held up as if warding him off. Bucky was so mad, so furious he didn’t care. He ripped the scarf away, throwing it to the ground.

There were bruises dotted along both sides of Tony’s jaw, little purple ovals pressed into his skin. The remainder of Howard Stark grabbing his son’s face and squeezing hard enough to leave a mark.

Tony was breathing shallowly, his eyes wild with agitation.

“I thought he wasn’t around.” Bucky snarled.

“He’s back.” Tony stuttered, “He came for Christmas.”

Bucky’s hands were shaking, he tried to reach for Tony’s face to soothe him but he was too angry and he stepped way instead fists clenched.

“I’ll fucking kill him.”

“Bucky…”

“Why do you let him?”

“let him?” Tony shouted shrilly back, loud for the first time, “I don’t let him do anything!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“Fuck you.” Tony hissed, his ashen face making the bruises on his jaw stand out even more.  “Fuck you.”

“I didn’t mean that.” Bucky stepped closer, his anger had faded to a dull boiling simmer, replaced by guilt at his insensitive words. “I was just angry. I just want to protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting!” Tony shouted back, his back was pressing hard against Bucky’s car and he was shaking. He seemed to shrink away when Bucky stepped up into his space even as his eyes burnt with fury, daring Bucky to come closer.

“I’m sorry, I just want to help.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

“I have been dealing with him my whole life. I made it this far and I don’t need you coming in now when I only have to put up with him for another 6 months, telling me I need help or that I’m causing it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“That’s what you meant though.” Tony snarled, his hands were pressed into Bucky’s chest, shoving hard. Bucky stumbled, using his momentum to drag Tony closer. Tony was still fighting him, snarling and hitting. They slipped together, falling to their knees. Bucky held on. Tony’s fists slowed, the force tumbling away from him until he was barely tapping Bucky. He gasped, his breathing choked with tears.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. He shouldn’t hurt you.” Bucky told him.

Tony heaved, the violence of the movement almost sending Bucky to the ground again. He choked and tears filled his eyes. “I don’t understand why he hates me so much.” He said. “I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

Tony didn’t talk much after that, descending into awful, breathless, gut-wrenching sobs. Bucky held him, wrapped in his arms so no one could see him crying. He felt like he was the only thing holding Tony together.

* * *

 

The cause of Tony’s fight with his father had, as always, been Maria Stark. Tony wanted them to go and see her grave near Christmas, Howard Stark didn’t. The resulting argument had ended up with Howard holding Tony off the ground by his neck. Bucky wanted to go and kill the man when he heard the story and had begged Tony to stay with him and his mother.

Tony had spent one night there before going back to him empty, cold manor and his father. Bucky didn’t understand it, didn’t understand what hold Howard had over Tony. By all accounts, Tony should hate him and most of the time he acted as if he did. Yet he still went back to, needling and desperate for attention. Bucky wondered if for Tony any attention was better than none.

Unable to sit around and worry about Tony, Bucky had gone to Steve’s just in time to see him stepping out his house.  “Oh.” Said Steve, his mitten-ed hands still clutching at his keys.

“Hi, Stevie.”

“You come to bite my head off again?”

Bucky rocked back on heels awkwardly. He hadn’t talked to Steve since he’d snapped at him at school. “No. I came to say sorry.”

Steve peered at him, eyes narrowed as if testing his sincerity. He sighed, “Well, you weren’t completely wrong.”

Bucky snorted, “Gosh, that almost sounded like you were saying you were wrong.”

Steve walked towards him smiling, “Never!” he shook his head like a pony, exaggerated denial. “But, I was smothering you. I don’t know what got into me.”

“I guess we’re both just on edge,” Bucky said and they stared at each other in silence. Remembering the weeks, months of hospitals and painkillers and agonising rehab. “I never said thank you, for sticking with me through all that.”

Steve’s ears went pink. “Yeah well. You’ve always stuck with me. We’re best friends, we’re going to stick together no matter what.”

They hugged suddenly, a lurching awkward movement that had them clinging onto each other. Bucky breathed in slowly. The worry he was carrying for Tony, the memories he was fighting off, it overwhelmed him for a moment and he could himself start to shake, adrenaline surging through. He closed his eyes, fighting the rising panic.

Steve was waiting for him when he came back to himself, his expression patient, careful. “Have you told Tony that you’re feeling this way?” he asked.

Bucky shook his head, “No. He has a lot going on at the moment.”

Steve frowned, “He’s your boyfriend, it’s his job-“

“Steve,” Bucky cut him off sharply, “don’t. You don’t know what he’s going through at the moment.”

Steve scowled, “Well tell me then.”

Bucky hesitated. Bucky hadn’t discussed with Steve the death of Tony’s mother or the rocky, abusive relationship he had with his father. Tony would hate the idea of Steve Rogers pitying him, knowing his weaknesses. But then, maybe if Steve understood Tony, he wouldn’t dislike Tony so much, maybe he would show him some compassion.

“His father is an arsehole.” Bucky muttered, “I could just kill the man.”

“Howard Stark? But he comes across so nice.”

“Yeah well, it’s not the fucking true. He barely around, spends most of his time in New York at work and I’m glad. He’s here now and it’s all I can do not to go there and wring his neck.”

Steve was staring at him, wide-eyed with surprise at the violence in Bucky’s voice. Bucky rubbed his hands over his face. “And Tony’s mother. She died last year. Some bloody awful car accident. Howard won’t even acknowledge it and Tony had been dealing with it all alone in his fucking big empty house.”

Steve made a strange, strangled noise. His face was pale when Bucky looked up at him.

“Bucky.” There was something in the way Steve said his name, a calm horror that reminded him of the Steve he’d met when’d woken up in the hospital without his memory or his arm. Stoic but unable to hide his shock, his dread. “Did he say when it happened?”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, fingers tangling in knots as he sighed, “Sometime last winter. I think he’s finding Christmas hard without his mom.”

“How did it happen?”

Bucky gave Steve a strange look, irritated by the pressing morbid nature of his questions. “He said Howard lost control of his car, hit a tree.”

Steve sank down to the ground, slumping onto the wet grass without a sound. Bucky stepped forward in alarm.

“Steve, you ok?”

“Yeah, I just felt sick for a moment,” Steve muttered. He was staring straight ahead, his face ashen and his eyes unfocused, sweat had appeared on his face despite the cold weather and was gathering in a line across his forehead. Bucky knelt down next to him worriedly. Steve did look awful.

“Maybe we should get you inside,” Bucky told him.

Steve nodded vaguely, he still looked so distant as if he wasn’t fully with Bucky. “Buck. I…” Steve trailed off and met his eyes. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe not talking to Tony about your accident makes sense. Considering everything.”

Bucky sighed and nodded, resting his chin on his knuckles. “Yeah, I think Tony needs help more than I need him, he doesn’t have anyone else. I guess it’s nice, being the one to help someone else.”

Steve nodded and grabbed Bucky’s hand. “And I’m here to talk. Since you shouldn’t talk to Tony about it.”

“yeah, thanks,” Bucky said gratefully. He was grateful, Steve was being kind and supportive just like always. And the strange, itch at the back of his mind - a mild annoyance as if something didn’t quite fit into place was probably just his anxiety. He rolled his shoulders, shaking the feeling off and stood up. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed, you look awful.”

Steve smiled at him weakly “Guilty conscience I guess.”

Bucky laughed, “When have you ever done anything that would give you a guilty conscience?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm guessing you may have guessed where this is going.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some explicit sexual content between teenagers.

 

The text from Tony came later that night. Asking Bucky in a short, strangely distant sentence if he would come with Tony tomorrow to visit his mother’s grave.

Bucky forced himself not to call back, clenching his hands into his bed sheets. He knew that Tony was texting to protect himself, there was something removed and emotionless about a text, it hid how much he felt. How much he needed things.

Bucky tapped away at his phone. “I’ll pick you up after lunch.” He replied.

The next day was suitable miserable, grey clouds thick and grim looking, clogging the sky and blocking the sun. Without the watery winter sun, It felt later than it was and it was cold enough that Tony’s face was pale apart from the spot of red on his nose as they walked through the graveyard.

Piles of leaves had been brushed to the sides of the pathway, sticking in sopping slippery puddles. Bucky squeezed Tony’s hand tight and Tony sent him a distant, wobbly smile back, clutching at the bouquet of flowers they had picked up outside hard enough to make the stems crumple and fold under the force of his grip.

It was hard not to feel the absence of Howard Stark as they approached Maria’s grave. The man’s disinterest, his coldness stoked the bitter, hateful fire inside Bucky’s chest, keeping him warm. His teeth hurt from the tight clench of his jaw and Bucky promised himself that he would never leave Tony to hurt alone as his father had.

Maria Stark’s grave was surprisingly simple considering who she was. A tall black marble headstone with delicate flowering vines curling around the edges in white.  Bucky waited on the path, hands in pockets and head turned away to give Tony some privacy as he whispered down at the stone.

“-Bucky’s here,” Tony said, the use of his name catching Bucky’s attention. “He brought me here. I, I wish you could have met him.”

Bucky ached for Tony, hunching his shoulders to protect himself from the pain of watching a loved one hurt. In his peripheral vision, he could see Tony sorting his flowers, carefully putting them into the little vases at the base moment of his mother’s headstone. Tony sank back on his knees once he had finished, sniffing and staring at his mother’s name.

“I miss you.” Tony said, “I miss you so much.” Words seemed to fail him finally and Tony breathed unsteadily, the noise echoing in the quiet graveyard. He stumbled to his feet, face pale and touched the gravestone one last time before walking over to Bucky.

Bucky held out arms, enveloping Tony as he came close. Tony pressed into him, burying his face into the front of Bucky’s coat.

“Thank you for coming with me today,” Tony mumbled.

Bucky titled his face up, rubbing at the wet trail of tears that had made its way down Tony’s face. “Thank you for letting me take you.”

Tony smiled, a small fragile thing on his face. He looked behind him sadly. “I think she would have liked you.”

“If she knew the thoughts I had about you I doubt it,” Bucky told him jokingly and Tony snorted, elbowing him in the side gently, his sadness wavering, parting like clouds after a storm.

Bucky threaded their fingers together, working the icy chill from Tony’s flesh. “Come on, let’s go get you warm.”

Tony rested his head against Bucky’s shoulder and nodded, “Let’s go to mine. I have something for you.”

* * *

 

Tony’s house felt different than the last time Bucky had visited. It was fuller, more lived-in and yet tenser. Every surface shone with polish, every ceiling and wall was decorated with cheerful tinsel and Christmas candles. But it was sterile, a picture of a happy home rather than actually being one.

Tony didn’t seem to notice, leading Bucky with quick soft steps to his bedroom. Bucky followed and closed the bedroom door behind them, feeling like they were kids hiding under blankets to get away from the monsters.

Tony was on his stomach, rumpling his smart clothes as he squirmed under his bed. Bucky couldn’t help but watch him silently for a moment, intrigued by the way his back muscles strained and flashes of flesh appeared and disappeared as his clothes caught on the floor.

Tony made a sound of victory and dragged himself back, onto his knees. He held what looked like a magazine aloft, its pages dog-eared from use. “here.” He said, wiggling forward to Bucky rather than standing up.

“Is this my Christmas present?” Bucky asked curiously.

Tony laughed and gestured to where a huge previously unnoticed parcel rested against the wall, ribbons so large they trailed on the floor. “That’s your Christmas present. This is just…Just something I wanted you to see.”

Bucky took the magazine curiously. It was a brochure: colourful pages full of cheerful looking young people and shiny modern buildings shimmering under sunlight. He blinked, closing it to look at the front cover. Massachusetts Institute of Technology was printed across the front page in bold lettering.

He glanced down. Tony was still sat on the floor, gnawing nervously at his lip, fingers rubbing over his knuckles in the way he did when he was trying to control his emotions.

Bucky grinned down at him, “You’re going to MIT?”

“Yes. Well, I’m going to apply.” Tony’s words spilled over themselves, his face cracking into a relieved, hesitant smile. “You were right. I don’t want to go to business school.”

Bucky threw himself on the floor, smothering Tony and wrapping himself around the boy, pressing big, wet kisses to his face. Tony laughed, wiggling and squirming away from him uselessly.

“Oh, my baby’s all grown up,” Bucky said, landing one particularly wet kiss straight to Tony’s forehead. “He’s going off to big school.”

Tony wiped his forehead amused. “Well I’m going to try, I don’t even know if they’ll take me.”

“Of course, they will. You’ll be off there in no time, dazzling and infuriating your professors in equal measure. And I’ll be- “ Bucky cut himself off abruptly.

Tony’s future was an endless list of glorious possibilities but his wasn’t so bright. Bucky’s family didn’t have money for college, any chance of sports scholarship had gone with his arm, and Bucky’s grades were solidly average. Recently, Steve has started bringing up Fury’s recruitment programme but Bucky couldn’t see how either of them would be picked for something like that. The best Bucky could hope for was a community college but mostly he had figured he would just start working.

“Come with me,” Tony said, softly, breaking Bucky from his thoughts. Bucky turned to look at him; Tony’s eyes were huge, hungry in his face.

“You can come with me. I could look after us.” Tony continued, fisting his hands into Bucky’s shirt.

“I can’t,” Bucky said softly, allowing the split-second dream of it to fall away like water through his fingers. “I’m not doing that to you and I don’t want to be your charity project.”

Tony flinched slightly but his hands twisted tighter into Bucky’s shirt, bringing them closer.  “But I don’t… I can’t lose you.”

Bucky smiled, stroking the soft curve of Tony’s cheek. “You won’t. I don’t really know what I’m going to do. Probably stay, I still have hospital appointments and my mum is alone and I can’t afford to leave the state to go to college. But I’m going to visit you so much you’ll get sick of me.”

Tony looked uncertain. “What if you can’t travel?”

“Then I’ll call you every night.”

“What if you’re busy?”

“Then I’ll record videos to send to you to keep you company.”

“What if-“

Bucky put his hand over Tony’s mouth laughing. “Tony Stark, stop worrying. I’m not going anyway. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

Tony seemed to relax in his arms, nipping fondly at his hand until Bucky removed it. “I’m glad” Tony whispered.

“Oh, I’ve got something for you,” Bucky said suddenly, digging into his back pocket. The present wasn’t elaborated wrapped like the one Tony was going to give him. The wrapping paper was thin and cheap, already wearing in some place. “Open it.” He gestured.

“Shouldn’t I wait until Christmas?”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Tony shrugged and started to gingerly pick the paper open before stopping to look at Bucky with narrowed eyes. “This doesn’t mean you get to open yours early.” He told him sternly.

Bucky held up his hands feigning innocence. The paper fell apart in Tony’s hand, leaving him holding a box. Inside was a simple watch with a soft leather strap and a polished watch face. Tony peered at it curiously, turning it over and pausing when he looked more closely at the face. Instead of a standard clock face, it was a black shimmering stone dotted with tiny gleaming white gems. A tiny perfect replica of a starry night.

“Oh it’s beautiful,” Tony said softly, running his thumb gently over the little stars. Bucky took the watch and turned it over delicately. Engraved onto the back of the watch was a swirl of print. Tony glanced up meeting his eyes and read, “To sharing stars.”

“I think,” Bucky said softly, “When we were in that auditorium, I fell in love with you.”

Tony made a noise of surprise, “that was so long ago.”

Bucky smiled, “I know. Sorry for being slow.”

Tony laughed, and reached out, dropping the watch between them to claim one, long, gentle kiss. “I love you,” Tony said and Bucky surged forward, mouthing the words back into Tony’s mouth.

Heat spiralling up Bucky’s chest, making him feel like he might be consumed, broken apart by his emotion. He couldn’t stop smiling, shivering with feeling. Tony didn’t seem much better and they grinned and laughed at each other between kisses. Their kisses were sweet, soft and shaking. Once they had said the words they couldn’t stop, whispering ‘I love you’ between each kiss.

At some point, the lazy emotional nature of their kissing kindled into something hotter, more desperate and Bucky picked Tony up and laid him out on his ridiculously huge bed. He ran his hands over the exposed skin of Tony’s arms and sucked at the delicate skin of his collarbones until Tony was writhing and begging Bucky to stop teasing. Bucky was hard, straining against his jeans and his thoughts felt sluggish, his attention caught between his own need and the feel of Tony’s skin, soft and burning beneath his hands.

“Is this my present to unwrap?” Bucky asked, fingers toying with the buttons on Tony’s shirt.

Tony’s eyes were dark, pupils were blown wide. He licked his lips; his mouth was swollen and red. The movement was so provocative that Bucky's stomach jolted with desire, his hips stuttering forward. Tony looked up at him through his lashes and let himself fall backward, splayed out and inviting on the bed. “If you want.”

The implication was clear and Bucky froze. They had been getting more physically intimate as the weeks went on, fingers and mouths encroaching into forbidden territory and Bucky wanted more. He dreamt about having Tony, of fucking him, of Tony fucking him back. But after Tony’s confession, Bucky hadn’t wanted to push him, preferring to wait until they were ready.

Bucky hesitated. His voice, when he found it, was roughened, dragged through his teeth. He felt like an animal, barely restrained. “Are you sure? We don’t have to.”

Tony eyes were steady, “I want to. Please, Bucky.”

Bucky groaned and pressed himself down hard into Tony. His hips parted Tony’s thighs leaving the boy was spread out and pinned under him. Bucky’s hands were uncoordinated as he fumbled at Tony’s shirt, shaky with barely controlled want and in the end, he gave up and pulled, ripping apart those tiny fancy buttons and sending them flying across the floor.

“Sorry,” Bucky mumbled sounding exactly about as sorry as he felt, which wasn’t very sorry at all.

“It’s ok. It’s ok.” Tony’s said with a grin, twisting to get out of the shirt. “Come on.”

Bucky smiled, hand going to the back of his neck and dragging his own t-shirt off. Tony stared up him, fingers reaching automatically for his exposed metal arm and slowly, carefully running down its length to the tender edges of where the prosthetic met his flesh. Bucky didn’t have much feeling in that part of his body, the scars and callus had hardened but somehow he found himself shivering at Tony’s touch.

“It’s ugly.” He mumbled, angling himself down to kiss Tony again. To hide his scars.

“No, it’s not. Nothing about you is ugly.” Tony said against his mouth.

Tony’s legs twined around Bucky’s torso, holding him tight. Their faces were close, noses nearly touching as they shared hungry, wet kisses. Tony pulled away for a second, teeth flashing mischievously and then he twisted, rolling them over so Bucky was on his back and Tony was perched in his lap. With his bare torso and his wild, mussed hair and swollen mouth, he was the image of debauchery.

Bucky groaned, hands flexing tight around Tony’s hips, drawing them together. “Fuck, that’s sexy.”

Tony’s mouth opened, clever words no doubt on the tip of his tongue but Bucky was ready for him. His fingers flicked open Tony’s trouser and slid inside, curling around his cock easily. Tony gasped, bucking against him in surprise.

“Fuck, fuck.” Tony folded over Bucky, back arching and fingers digging in hard into his shoulders. His hips were thrusting erratically, fucking himself into Bucky’s hand. “Wait, wait. If you don’t stop, I’m going to come.”

Bucky grinned but stilled his hand and brought it back onto Tony’s hips. He didn’t want it to be over yet, he had ideas. He tugged at Tony’s trousers, and Tony helpful raised up onto his knees and slid them down. The material got trapped around his thighs, leaving him looking more wanton than ever but it was enough. Bucky drew Tony down again, so he was laid flat on top of Bucky, their bare chests pressed together and Tony’s dick hard against the rough material of his jeans. Bucky’s hand moved down, around to the plush softness of Tony’s behind.

Against his mouth, Tony let out a shuddering breath, his eyes were blown wide, lustful and apprehensive.

“Can I?” Bucky asked softly, fingers edging towards the hidden space between Tony’s cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony gasped softly.

Bucky started kissing Tony again, distracting him as he moved his hand. Tony’s hole was closed tight, hot. He tapped against the furled muscle and Tony groaned, writhing against him. Bucky pressed forward. In a moment they would need lube but for now, he just wanted to feel Tony’s body opening up for him.

The muscle slowly gave way beneath the gentle pressure and Bucky let the tip of his finger enter Tony. Bucky had seen enough porn to have gained some ideas about how this should go but he hadn’t expected it to be so hot or so tight. Tony was clamped hard around him, so tight that Bucky felt like his finger was going to be bruised.

Tony was making faint whimpering noises; he had stopped kissing Bucky and was mouthing wetly at his neck, shivering.

“Does it hurt?” Bucky asked worriedly.

“No.” Tony sounded less than certain. “It feels weird, big.”

Bucky took a deep concerned breath, “I haven’t even got my finger fully in.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“We can stop.” Bucky said quickly, “We don’t have to continue, we can do other things.”

“No, I want to keep going,” Tony said firmly and tilted his hips, pressing his erection against Bucky’s stomach to demonstrate his willingness. They both groaned as the movement sent Bucky’s finger further into Tony and Tony repeated the movement with a string of curses. Bucky turned his finger gently, opening up Tony more and sending the boy shuddering against him. Tony was leaking, wetness smeared against Bucky’s stomach.

“So pretty,” Bucky gasped, his free hand curling around Tony’s face and drawing him up so he could stare into his blown out glazed eyes. “Look at me,doll.”

The impossible tightness of Tony’s body had loosened slightly and Bucky was slowly moving his finger in and out of Tony. He wanted to see, he wanted to press his second finger into Tony, to open him up. He wanted to fuck Tony properly.

“Lube, do you have lube?”

“Drawer by my bed.” Tony slurred. Bucky kissed him again, amazed at the reaction he could pull from his boyfriend.

Abruptly there was a sharp, loud rapping at the door.

They both jumped, Bucky’s fingers tugging from Tony in surprise. Tony hissed in discomfort and they fumbled around each other, tugging Tony’s jeans upright.

“Anthony, Mr. Barnes. Dinner is ready.”

“Thanks.” Tony croaked loudly, “We’ll be down in a minute.”

For one long breathless moment, Bucky and Tony stared at each other, eyes unseeing as they listened to Jarvis’ fading footsteps. Even after the butler had disappeared they were silent, senses in overdrive and thrumming with adrenaline.

Tony snorted.

Bucky grinned back at him and laughter exploded between them, filling the room.

“I thought my heart was going to burst I was so scared.” Tony gasped, flopping onto his back. He was clutching his ruined shirt to his chest. Bucky laid down next to him.

“You were scared? Jarvis is terrifying, I thought I was about to be murdered!”

Tony smiled, hair tumbling around his face. He was glowing, vibrant and soft Bucky wanted to keep him like this forever, to capture the image of him forever in this moment. His hand cupped Tony’s face, rubbing against the soft gold lines of his cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Tony said back. He pressed his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder. “Maybe next time we’ll manage to get a bit further.”

“There’s no rush,” Bucky said. “We have all the time in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That final scene got a bit more explicit during the edit - awkward. Anyway, its time to buckle up. Things are about to get a little bit bumpy.


	13. Chapter 13

 

Waking up alone in Tony’s huge bed, Bucky had a moment of déjà vu. His post-Halloween embarrassment was a blurry, nightmarish memory as he wavered on the edges of sleep. He rubbed his eyes, wincing and called out Tony’s name.

The room was empty, Tony’s side of the bed cooling rapidly. The door to the hall had been left cracked open slightly and from beyond, people talking in the distance drifted in snatches of sound towards Bucky.

It took Bucky a few more sleep hazed moments to realise that the reason he could hear voices all the way from Tony’s bedroom was because the people were shouting. One deep voice – sneering and threatening and Tony’s voice –scared and high pitched.

Bucky felt his body shake as adrenaline shot through him and he tumbled out of bed, feet stumbling in his haste to get to Tony. Howard was here. Howard had come home. Bucky nearly ran into the wall, skidding on bare feet. He couldn’t stop seeing the bruises on Tony’ jawline, hearing his scared choking voice as he called Bucky all those nights ago, soaking and alone in the rain.

Bucky ran down the corridor, nearly breaking his neck in his hurry.

“You selfish brat.” Howard snarled, his words suddenly razer clear. “You were always a disappointment but I can’t believe you could so stupid. You are going to business school. You are going to come and work for me.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to work for Stark Industries.”

“Oh, is the company which put a roof over your head and food in your mouth all these years too good for you now?” Howard was sneering, his voice cruel.

“No. It’s just-“ Bucky had never heard Tony so unsure, so wavering. He careened around the top of the stairs, stopping as the two figures came into view.

Howard Stark wasn’t as tall as Obadiah. His hands were surprisingly long and delicate. A trace of his son lingered in the thick sweep of his eyelashes and generous fullness of his mouth but it was worn, sanded down and twisted into something hard and cruel. He loomed over his son, eyes flashed with fury. Tony was vibrating, shaking, facing his father full on; his hands fisted at his side.

“You don’t know what you’re on about. I will not let you waste yourself.”

“I’m not wasting myself!” Tony shouted back, “MIT is one of the most prestigious schools in the world. I could do amazing things there. I could make amazing things.”

“You could waste your time and my money.” Howard snarled, “I will not pay for you fuck around making metal dogs and second-rate circuit boards.”

“Then I’ll pay for myself.” Tony shouted, “I don’t need your permission.”

Howard stepped forward, eyes flashing. Tony took a step back and Bucky’s heart tripped a beat. “Actually, you fucking do, because you’re not eighteen are you, Tony? You’re still a minor and I get to make the decision in your life. You go to business school or you spend the next two years chained like a dog in this house. You’re choice.”

Tony stared at him, shocked into silence. His face  was ashen, eyes dark with hurt. Howard sneered seemingly content that he had put Tony in his place. He stepped away, turning his back on his son.

“Mom would have let me,”  Tony whispered.

Howard stopped moving, his back still to his son. “Did you say something?” he asked, dangerously.

“I said,” Tony said, his voice rising, quivering. “I said, mom would have let me go. She would have been happy for me. Not like you; you’re just jealous-“

Anything else Tony was about to say was cut off as Howard spun around suddenly. His arm went flying out and the back of his hand hit Tony’s face hard. Tony cried out in shock, dropping to the floor and staring up at his father, eyes wet.

“You’re pathetic.” Howard sneered and raised his hand again. “I can’t believe you’re my son.”

Bucky had been watching their argument, breathless from the top of the stairs. As soon as Howard had raised his hand he moved, leaping down the stairs.

“Oi!” he snarled as Howard made to hit Tony again. Howard automatically turned, just in time for Bucky’s metal fist to slam perfectly into the side of his face. There was a wonderful, beautiful crunching sound and Howard fell backward, feet flying up as he landed hard on his back.

“Not so tough now are you.” Bucky snarled down at him and flexed his fingers. It was harder than he liked to admit stepping away from Howard and crouching down next to Tony. 

“Who the fuck is this?” Howard levered himself up slowly, voice a whip. “One of your little thug friends.”

Tony flinched, leaning into Bucky’s hands.

“I’ll have you done for assault, you fuckwit.” Howard roared, “Do you know who I am? What I can do to you.”

Bucky hated him, hated him more than anyone who he had ever met. The anger that had consumed Bucky after his accident was back, a forest fire of uncontrollable rage running through him, demanding violence. He got to his feet and for a moment he and Howard were eye to eye, close enough that Bucky could smell the strong whiskey on his breath.

“Oh yeah, why don’t you try it asshole? Go on, give me your best shot. You won’t do anything because then people might figure out the great Howard Stark hits his son.”

“Bucky!” Tony was shouting his name, clambering back up his feet and trying to tug his backwards, away from Howard.

Howard spotted Tony and sneered at them in disgust. “I can discipline my son how I see fit. Not that it works, he’s still the same snivelling brat he always was.”

Bucky’s arm swung up again, ready to punch the man’s awful twisted mouth when the front door swung open.

The noise shocked everyone and they froze, a strange picture of anger as sunlight spilled around them. Howard with his hand in Bucky’s shirt, Bucky his fist raised and Tony hanging off him, desperate to stop them.

“Howard?” Obadiah Stane stepped up into the doorway, his huge frame blocking out the light. He glanced between them all quickly, eyes shrewd. His gaze lingered on Tony’s bruised face and his position behind Bucky’s shoulder. Tony tugged Bucky hard, dragging him backwards and away from Howard

Obadiah stepped in between them all with a deftness that seemed out of place considering his size. His big hand cupped Tony’s face and his thumb stretched up and down Tony’s cheek, following the mark Howard had left. With his hand still curled around Tony’s face, Obadiah met Bucky’s eyes. Bucky clenched his teeth, hands fisted and prepared to defend himself.

“None of that boy,” Obadiah told him. “I can see what happened here.”

“Obie, please,” Tony said desperately. Obadiah nodded, patting him and stepping back,

“I think it would be best if you two left for a while.” He said softly, “take your phone. I will call you.”

Tony hesitated, “He said he would arrest Bucky. Bucky was only –“

“Don’t worry. I will sort everything out.” Obadiah told Tony firmly and then without another word he was turning to face Howard. His face jovial, untouched by the scene he had stepped into.

“Come my ,old friend,” Obadiah told Howard, arms outstretched, sweeping the man forcibly into his embrace and moving him along, away from Tony and Bucky. “I think we should get a drink.”

Howard let Obadiah push him forward. Looming over Tony, he had seemed like a monster from a child’s nightmare. In Obadiah’s arms, he was a drunk, confused old man. Howard was a child abuser and Bucky hated him for it, would always hate him for it. But he found himself unsettled by the scene before him, by Howard’s submissiveness to Obadiah.

Next to him, Tony let loose a wounded, shuddering breath. It echoed around the empty room.

Neither Howard nor Obadiah glanced back.

* * *

 

It was raining as they drove to Bucky’s; sheets of icy water pounded down onto his window screen. Bucky was glad, it filled in the silence that stretched between them. Tony was huddled up in the passenger’s seat, jack-knifed into an impossibly small knot of limbs. His face was hidden beneath his nervous hands and Bucky could hear him biting his nails, missing every third breathe.

The adrenaline and the rage from his confrontation with Howard had faded leaving Bucky feeling shaky and nauseated. Howard’s threat echoed around his head; the man had power, more power and influence than Bucky could comprehend and Bucky had attacked him in his own home. He glanced over at Tony remembering how quick Tony was to dismiss his abuse, how despite everything Tony still loved his father and how desperately he wanted to be loved back. Bucky wasn’t sure Tony would fight against his father, wasn’t sure he really could.

They got out of the car in silence, dashing through the rain and scrambling inside. Bucky’s home was warm and safe, a haven from the weather and from the lingering events. Tony slumped down at the kitchen table, head in hands.

“Tony,” Bucky said, touching his shoulder, “Darling.”

Tony lifted his head up slowly.

“I’m sorry.” They both said at, echoing each other.

Tony frowned, “Why are you sorry?”

“For hitting your dad?”

“Oh.” Tony smiled weakly, “don’t be sorry, you were protecting me. And it was nice to see him fall over on his arse.” They snorted, smiling at each other at the memory. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess.”

 “Not your fault.” Bucky reached out, hands skimming over the darkening bruise on Tony’s cheek. “ I should have hit him harder.”

Tony titling his head so his cheek was resting in Bucky’s palm. Tony’s hand came up and captured Bucky’s, holding him still while he nuzzled Bucky like a kitten. He kissed Bucky’s palm, his lips cold and rough. Bucky leaned down and their mouths met easily, slotting together as if they were two parts of a puzzle.

The kiss started off as something soothing, something tentative and apologetic. It quickly became more desperate, adrenaline and fear making them surge against each other needily. Bucky’s hands skimmed down Tony’s damp shirt, cupping his backside and pulling him up. Tony moved with him, jumping to wrap his legs around Bucky’s waist in one easy movement. Bucky wobbled under the weight, moving heavily to the kitchen counter and placing Tony down.

Tony gasped. Perched on the counter he was taller than Bucky and he smiled down at him, pushing Bucky’s wild hair away from his face with shaky, sweeps of his hands.

“Hello! Oh-“ Bucky’s mom had entered the house without them realising. She threw her hands up as if to cover her eyes, dropping her keys to the floor and flushing a brilliant tomato red. Tony nearly fell off the kitchen counter as he and Bucky sprang apart, going a colour to match Bucky’s mother.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” Winifred shouted, still brilliantly red, “What the hell do you think you’re doing to my kitchen counters. And why are you both soaking wet?”

* * *

 

Bucky didn’t tell his mother everything but she was no fool. Her eyes caught on Tony’s skittish behaviour and bruised cheek and went hard and flinty. She ordered Bucky to find clean clothes for them both and set about making up a bed for Tony on the sofa. At Bucky’s automatic, thoughtless protest about keeping them apart she gave him a stern look that made Bucky wisely move on.

Tony weathered Winifred’ fussing quietly but as the day faded into night his leg started bouncing anxiously and he kept glancing at his phone.

“Tony-“ Bucky said, sliding a hand over his boyfriend's knee. On the TV in front of them, Indiana Jones was facing off against an evil swordsman, looking about as exhausted as Bucky felt.

“Why hasn’t he called yet,” Tony asked quickly, squirming against Bucky on the sofa. “Obie said he would sort it all out but he hasn’t called yet.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, he was also surprised Obadiah hadn’t been in touch. Anxiety nibbled at him. “Maybe you should call him?” he said. Tony nodded but hesitated, his fingers hovering over his phone.

As if summoned Tony’s phone illuminated, vibrating wildly. Tony grabbed it just before it fell off the couch, quickly accepting the incoming call. “Hello? Hi Obie. Oh? Really? But – yes. Yes. OK.”

Tony hung up the phone, already stumbling on numb legs to his feet. “He’s outside.” He told Bucky softly and Bucky watched as he scrambled around grabbing the few items, he had brought with him without another word.

As stated, Obadiah was sat in a huge stretched car outside their drive. He wound down the window and gestured but made no move to get out and greet Tony.

“Tony… you could stay here.” Bucky said quickly, gripping Tony’s arm. “My mum wouldn’t mind. You don’t have to go with him.”

Tony frowned, “He’s helping us.”

“I know. I just…” Bucky’s sentence trailed off and he shook his head, unable to explain exactly why he felt so uneasy.

“It’s Obie,” Tony said softly, pecking Bucky’s mouth quickly, “He’ll help us, just you see.”

“Call me,” Bucky said, still clinging onto Tony.

Tony smiled. “Of course.”

Then he was darting out into the rain, a tiny dark figure against the storm. Bucky watched the car, fingers tight around the edge of his front door. From the dark car, Obadiah was watching him, his eyes cool and silvery with interest.


	14. Chapter 14

 

Despite Tony’s promises, he didn’t call or text Bucky the next morning or the entire day after. Bucky nearly tore his hair with worry, his texting message going unread and his calls straight to voice. When he arrived outside’s Tony’s house on Monday it was all he could do to stop himself from driving right up to the front door and demanding Obadiah show him to Tony right away.

Despite’s Tony certainty that Obadiah would make everything right, Bucky couldn’t help but imagine Howard Stark coming after Tony like a demon, chasing him around their awful empty house. Bucky clutched his steer wheel, feeling it groan under his fingers. He was just going to get out and go to the front door, he couldn’t wait any longer.

A sudden movement in his peripheral vision snatched his attention and Bucky turned to see Tony walking towards him, waving brightly.

“Morning,” Tony said, throwing his bag carelessly into the car. He jumped up into the passenger’s seat, positively beaming.  Bucky felt himself gaping, furious that Tony could look so happy and relaxed while he had spent the past 48 hours worrying himself sick.

“The fuck.” The words were out before Bucky could stop them, hissed angrily between his teeth.

“Sorry,” Tony said, wincing at Bucky’s expression. “Sorry, I know. I just… Things have been so strange since Obie came to pick me up.”

“So busy you couldn’t even send me a text?”

Tony bit his lip, “Sorry. I did mean to me. But listen, I don’t know how he did it but Obie got Howard to agree not to press any charges.”

Bucky swallowed his anger, annoyed by the worship in Tony’s eyes.  “And did he manage to get Howard to stop knocking you about.”

Tony flinched, frowning at Bucky. He leaned back against the passenger door, arms folding defensively. “Howard is going back to New York. Obie said they both agreed some space would do us good.”

“And what, you’re just going to be left alone in that monstrosity you call a house?”

“I managed it fine up until now.” Tony snapped back, his eyes flashing. “What the fuck is your problem. Obie managed to fix everything for us. Howard is leaving and he won’t come after you. Obie did that.”

“Oh how kind of him. I bet he’s already volunteered himself up to look after you in Howard’s stead.”

Tony scowled, “actually he did.”

“How fucking convenient.”

“Jesus Christ, what is wrong with you.” Tony hissed, “You’re acting like he’s is some sort of monster instead of the guy that just saved our hinds.  Show some fucking gratitude.”

Bucky bit his lip, seething in anger. Beneath his anger, he could feel a faint flare of panic building. This wasn’t going how he wanted this morning to go at all. Arguing with Tony was exactly the last thing he had wanted but he just couldn’t seem to control his anger.

“You know, he even managed to get Howard to agree to let me apply for MIT.” Tony continued.

Bucky gritted his teeth, feeling their grind against each other painfully. “You’re right. I should be grateful.” The words were sharp, forced and from Tony’s expression, his lack of sincerity was obvious. He sighed in frustration, dragging his hands over his face. “I know I sound like an arsehole right now but please, just be careful OK? There’s something about him that rubs me the wrong way. I’m just worried. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Tony scoffed, softening but still simmering with annoyance. “Honestly, you’re a suspicious bastard sometimes.”

“Well, you’re a pretentious git.”

“Anger issues.”

“Lecher.”

“Hey, I thought we’d established that was completely not true.” They smiled at each other, both eager to let the building argument fall away unfinished.

Bucky’s gaze was suggestive as he ran his eyes over at Tony. “I know some of it is true.”

Tony jabbed him hard in the ribs. “you’re the lecher.”

“I hope so.”

Bucky pulled up at the school, taking a moment to let himself wrap Tony up in his arms, breathing in the familiar smell of him. A coil of tightly wound anxiety unravelled in his chest and he let out one shuddering breath and squeezed tighter. The last two days had been hard, so hard not knowing what was going on. Bucky had barely slept a wink, tormented by the memory of Howard hitting Tony and kept awake, imagining every creak of his house was the police coming to take him away for assault. He might not like Obadiah but if what Tony said was true, they both owed the man big time.

“Hey, Bucky,” Tony said; Bucky’s face still mushed into his neck.

“hmm?”

“Are you doing anything next Saturday?”

“Hmm, no…. oh wait.” Bucky backtracked, suddenly remembering the Christmas Charity event that Fury had invited Steve to all those months ago.

He had been so eager to go with Steve back then, still clinging onto the idea that the invite meant that Steve felt more than friendship for him. Bucky had moved on, his crush on Steve fading as his relationship with Tony had grown. But Steve was still insistent on going to the charity event, convinced that Fury was on the level about his ‘special recruitment programme’ and that this was his chance to prove himself or at least to meet other people who had been on the scheme. Bucky couldn’t let Steve go there alone, he owed him that much at least. He winched, suddenly dreading trying to explain all this to Tony. He looked down at Tony and coughed awkwardly, his courage failing him.

“Sorry, I’m busy. I’m going to this thing with the people that work on my arm.”

“Oh. OK.” Tony said softly, he sounded disappointed.

Bucky leaned down to kiss him guilty. “I don’t think I’ll be there long though. I could meet you after?”

Tony shook his head, smiling. “No, it’s OK. It’s nothing anyway.”

* * *

 

Much to Bucky’s dismay, Obadiah seeped like oil spill into Tony’s life.

On Tuesday, Bucky picked Tony up to find Obadiah waving him off at the manor house. On Friday, Obadiah pulled Tony up outside their school explaining that he had been in the neighbourhood and wanted to take Tony out for coffee. Obadiah invited Tony to spent the Christmas holidays with him at his California home and Tony happily, accepted, recounting to Bucky everything he planned on doing with Obadiah over the holidays.

Bucky hated the man, hated the way Tony looked at him as if he couldn’t quite believe Obadiah wanted to spend time with him. Bucky mumbled darkly to Steve that it was all a bit unbelievable and Steve hit him around the head with his maths book, sending Bucky stumbling. He had a powerful swing for such a little guy.

Bucky rubbed the back of his head, cursing at him.

“Stop being so jealous. It’s a bad look on you.” Steve retorted, ignoring the betrayed look Bucky send him.

“I’m not jealous.”

“You’re turning green before my eyes,”  Steve said, eyes narrowed. “Look, Buck, Tony hasn’t had a good relationship with his father –“

“- understatement –“

“- So,” Steve stressed, “he missed on all the paternal bonding that most kids have and now he’s found someone who wants to step up. Let him enjoy that relationship a little.”

Bucky felt a little shamed by that. Howard had been awful and his dislike of Obadiah felt petty and selfish when he thought about it in that way. It was just, sometimes, sometimes he would catch Obadiah watching Tony when the other boy was unaware and his expression was cold, greedy.

It made Bucky’s skin crawl.

 

* * *

 

“So, what do you think?” Steve held out his arms, twirling around slowly.

Bucky laughed, “Where the hell did you get that suit from Rogers?”

Steve tugged at his tie “It was my Dad’s. My mum altered it.” He looked down at himself self-consciously. Steve wasn’t quite the emaciated sickly figure he had been from their childhood but there was a slightness about him, a fragility that was unique to Steve. Steve kept trying to be his father, to fill his shoes and always ended up failing. Wearing his father’s clothes seemed to be taking the metaphor too far and some part of Bucky wondered at what point Steve’s behaviour would cross the line from hero-worship to masochism.

He sighed, reaching over to secure Steve’s tie. “Well, I think you look just great.”

Steve smiled, obviously aware of what Bucky was doing. He batted Bucky’s hand away fondly, leaning over to flatten his hair in the mirror. “Where is the charity event being held again? I want to get there early. I have so many questions for Fury about his programme. I have a good feeling about tonight, Buck.”

Bucky was glad Steve was looking away so he wouldn’t see the face he made at his back. He pulled out the crumpled invite from his jacket pocket. The gold invite had worn away where he had folded it, leaving a dissolving cross of white peeling paper that flaked in his hands as he opened it. He gave it to Steve without a word and glanced at his phone to see if Tony had replied.

Tony was doing something for his mother tonight. He’d brushed it off when Bucky had pressed him, saying it was nothing and not wanting to make Bucky feel like he had to come when he already had plans. All of which made, Bucky feel decidedly worse. He kept thinking he should have told Tony the truth or told Steve he couldn’t come to the charity event. But then that may have been worse. If things went wrong with Fury tonight, Steve was going to need him and Bucky had promised him to be there all those months ago. It didn’t feel like there was an option Bucky could take without hurting someone. Steve may have a good feeling about tonight but Bucky definitely did not.

“He still not answering?” Steve asked, his eyes sympathetic.

Bucky shook his head. “I guess he’s busy.”

Steve nodded, “You know, I’m sure we can leave early if you wanted.”

Bucky nodded, smiling in relief at the permission. He couldn’t help but think about how strange this year had been. He had gone from desperately wanting to go to this fancy event with Steve to leaving it to be with Tony.

Next, to him, Steve suddenly let loose a sharp curse, darting past Bucky to start tugging on his discarded dress shoes. He waved an arm past Bucky’s head, and towards the clock behind him. “Buck, we’ve got to go, we’re late.”

Bucky glanced up. “Fuck.” He repeated. They weren’t just late, they were very late. He grabbed Steve by the arm. The other boy was hopping on one foot, trying to cram his toes into a tightly-laced shoe. “Do it in the car. We don’t have time!” Bucky ordered and Steve stumbled after him, cursing with every hop.

The Charity Event was across town and despite Bucky’s most aggressive driving, they were extremely late by the time they arrived, running up the stairs to the entrance of the city hall breathless as the staff hurried them inside.

Inside, the lights had already been dimmed and Bucky and Steve fumbled their way under artistic twisting fairy lights across a marble floor set out with the tables. Furls of coloured ribbon hung gracefully from the ceiling, dark blue and dotted with the lights that they reminded Bucky of the night sky.  From across the room, a scattering of applause started and Bucky ducked his head in embarrassment as the lights from stage burst into being.

Steve pushed him sideways into a seat and they grinned at each other like children who had managed to avoid being caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“Thank you. Thank you all for coming tonight.”

Bucky’s head snapped around, he knew that voice.

The stage was flooded with spotlights, illuminating the speaker in the otherwise dusk-filled room. Standing at the podium, looking as put together as a picture was Tony. He was clutching his notes, eyes flickering down and to the side as if he couldn’t bear looking into the empty faces staring up at him.

Bucky sat frozen in his seat. What was Tony doing here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ready for you to shout at me for ending there. I deserve it.


	15. Chapter 15

The lights aimed the stage were bright, illuminating Tony’s pale nervous face and blinding him to the eyes of the people staring back at him. Tony wouldn’t be able to see any more than monstrous dark shapes peering out at him from the shadows. He wouldn’t be able to see Bucky, lost in the audience. Bucky slid down into his chair, confused and horrified. He didn’t want Tony to see him here, to see him with Steve. His face was hot, burning with guilt.

Tony gave a little, almost unnoticeable cough; a ghost of a smile flitting across his across as the polite applause in the room died.  “Many thanks to SHIELD who organised the invitations. As you may recognise, this charity event is named after my late mother who was taken from us, from me, last year on the 16th December.”

The room titled slowly. Pain shot through Bucky’s head suddenly. It felt as if he had been punched and his brains were rattling around his skull. Bucky hissed at the sharp ringing that echoed in his ears. At the edges of his consciousness, split threads of thoughts started to come together. Understanding splintering together painful.

Bucky remembered December the 16th.

Bucky remembered the paramedics who had found him half frozen and half dead on the railway tracks outside of town. He remembered the way his fingers had turned blue and how his elbow had twisted, bone sticking out of his skin as blood pooled around him, freezing into pink sheets of ice. Bucky remembered how they had cut, ignoring his screams. He remembered begging them to stop but not being able to speak, his tongue was frozen in his mouth.

Bucky felt like he was floating above himself, watching himself, watching Tony. His brain couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t understand what he was hearing, what he was seeing.

Beside him, Steve breathed in sharply and Bucky turned to him, feeling like he was moving in slow-motion. Steve was white-faced, colourless, his eyes blow wide like a cornered animal. 

“The 16th,” Bucky said, his voice was distant.  “Tony said his dad swerved to avoid another a driver….” He looked down at his hands and for a moment he could see it - see himself holding onto the bars on his motorcycle, racing through the storm, too cold to care about speed limits.

There was a round of polite applause and Tony was waving, bowing and retreating off stage. Tony who was here because his mother had been killed. Bucky was going to be sick, he could the bile rising up in his throat. This had to be one horrible, awful nightmare. Any minute now he was going to wake up.

“Buck. Buck…” Steve was reaching for him, hissing his name desperately. Bucky realised he had stood up, was staring blankly around, barely seeing the room through the sudden memories of snow and cold. People were staring at him, whispering.

He glanced down at Steve, the blonde boy looked desperate, frantic. He looked guilty.

Bucky shook his head in denial, stepping backward. Bucky had been punched in the stomach before, this was like someone reaching into his gut and twisting. “Oh Steve, Stevie. Tell me you didn’t know…”

Steve stared up at him, his face a mask of horror. Bucky turned, pushing past people. He needed to get out, he needed to leave before Tony saw him. He moved faster, shoving and ignoring the angry shouts he left in his wake. He was near the dancefloor when Steve caught up to him, throwing himself at Bucky and dragging at his arm hard to stop him. Bucky snarled and shoved him back furiously. He felt like a wounded animal, poked and cornered as it tried to hide its wounds.

“There was nothing to connect you two.”  Steve hissed, shoving closer again, his eyes darting around at the people watching them. “We found you on the railway tracks, your bike was gone, you were so injured that you couldn’t even call for help. You were there for hours and even when they found you, they couldn’t figure it out.”

“But you did,” Bucky said, his voice cracking, quiet against the roaring in his ears.

Steve shook his head, “Buck, I didn’t know. I knew which road you usually travelled on, but I didn’t connect it the crash on that road. There’s no proof that you had anything to do with it. They say Howard ran into a tree.”

“God Steve,” Bucky snarled, throwing the smaller boy off him furiously, “I drove too fast, I always drove too fast on that road. You were always telling me off.  I was there that night, I was on that road that night. You knew you guessed I was involved.” He looked at his hands, they were shaking, “I remember falling off that road.”

Like smoke curling up through a chimney, great thick plumes of memory grew and swallowed Bucky.

He had been driving home, racing through the snow, his bike roaring beneath him. Steve always told him that he drove too fast but Bucky didn’t care. He could turn his bike on a quarter and it was so cold and dark. The storm raged around him, making his teeth chatter in his jaw.

Out of the snow, a huge red car flew towards him; it was so close, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Bucky wobbled on his bike, his wheels skidded across the ice and sent his bike twisting towards the car. For a moment, time became treacle and Bucky looked up to meet the frozen, shocked expression of the car’s passenger. The woman looked at him, her hands raising up as if to protect herself.

Bucky threw his weight to the side, and his bike twisted, screeching at it fell. He skidded, horrifyingly, dizzyingly fast. The car moved too; the driver pulling down hard enough on the wheel to send it careering on two wheels. They skidded past each other, close enough that Bucky could feel the heat of the car’s exhaust on his face.

Bucky’s fingers were frozen, locked around the handlebars of his bike; he didn’t see where the car stopped, already sliding off the edge of the road. For a moment he was suspended, flying, the cold air ripping the scream from his lungs. Then he hit the ground hard. His bike fell away from him, the ringing sound of metal shattering swallowed by the storm. Bucky tumbled on, falling and rolling down the steep incline. His arm was wrenched on something, a horrible violent pain ripping through him. He must have passed out, because the next thing he knew he was lying on the snow, limbs splayed out like a broken doll as he bled. He tried to cry out, to ask for help but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even whisper. The pain in his arm was red hot, unbearable.

Bucky remembered lying in the snow, too cold to cry, in too much agony to scream. He had thought he was going to die there.

He wobbled, the snow fading away just in time to see Steve grabbing him, dragging him away from the crowd who had started to press in close, whispering in alarm as Bucky swayed.

“Buck, Buck, please.” Steve hissed, pressing him towards the back wall with a strength that Bucky didn’t know Steve had. His skin felt overheated against the cold brick and Bucky could feel sweat dripping down his forehead, falling off his nose.

“Mr. Barnes.”

They both twisted in surprise at the sound. Obadiah Stane had crept up on them, cat-like despite his huge size. Squashed between his teeth was an unlit cigar, the dark brown filler pulsing outwards as he smiled.

“Obadiah,” Bucky said shakily, trying to stop his knees from buckling.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Obadiah said pleasantly. Steve stepped in front of Bucky, if he had been a dog, his hackles would have been raised.

Obadiah laughed, stepping closer and placing one large hand on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing tight and holding the blonde boy still as he stepped closer. In the dim light of the charity gala his eyes were silvery, cold and dead looking.

“No need for that, Mr. Barnes and I are old friends.”

Steve hissed.

Bucky stared up at the man slowly. At the edges of his frayed mind, another memory snagged his attention. He met Obadiah’s eyes, “I never told you my surname.”

“Who did you think nominated you for the SHIELD prosthetic programme Mr. Barnes? It seemed only fitting that someone from Stark Industries helps you, considering how you lost your arm in the first place.”

Bucky thought he was going to be sick. “You, you know?”

Obadiah smiled, tongue peeking out from beside his cigar. He glanced over his shoulder, directing Bucky and Steve’s gaze. From across the room, Tony was staring at them.

Tony saw Bucky and his face lit up, eyes curling up with delight. He started walking towards them, moving quickly in his eagerness.

“Tony, however, Tony doesn’t know,” Obadiah said softly. He leaned in, looming over Bucky until his face was near Bucky’s. The smell of cigars was clogging, “Yet.”

Bucky looked up, desperately. Tony had slowed down abruptly, freezing as if he could sense the atmosphere around him. His smile was sliding off his face, like a sheet slipping across marble to reveal stone beneath. Bucky strained, desperate to get to him first, to grab him and hold him, to throw himself down on Tony’s mercy. 

Obadiah’s fingers pressed against his shoulder joint, digging in and twisting. Bucky shuddered, going limp at the sudden pain. Steve threw himself at them with a renewed fight, clawing at Obadiah’s arm.

“Obie! What are you doing!” Tony darted forward, grabbing at Obadiah’s arm with Steve.

Obadiah dropped both Steve and Bucky, holding up hands and backing away, his arm somehow slid in front of Tony, pushing him away from where Bucky was slumped gasping against the wall. The space between them seemed impossibly large.

“I thought I recognised him at the house.” Said Obadiah calmly, one hand on Tony’s shoulders, fingers holding the dark-haired boy possessively. “He never told you did he.”

Tony blinked at Obadiah confused, “Tell me what.” His eyes met Bucky’s “Tell me what Bucky?”

“Tony….” Bucky’s words failed him, “Tony I’m sorry…”

“Why are you sorry. What’s going on.” Tony’s voice was edging higher. He rocked forth, edging towards Bucky but was stopped by Obadiah’s outstretched hand and Steve’s sudden defensive stance before Bucky.

“He never mentioned what day his accident was on,” Obadiah said, his mouth lowered to Tony’s ear. His voice was liquid, seeping gently between them. “The other car on the road that night your mother died. It was a bike.”

“No. No!” Tony snapped, he shook off Obadiah’s hand, stepping closer to Bucky. Obadiah faded away, a looming shadow watching them, his mouth twisted in amused cruelty.

Tony’s face was crooked as if he hadn’t figure out what expression he was trying to fake. “That doesn’t make sense, it’s ridiculous.” He grabbed Bucky’s hand. “Come on Bucky, tell Obie’s he’s got it wrong.”

Tony had his mother’s eyes, Bucky realised. They were staring at him in the same way, a desperate shocked look, frozen as they understood Bucky was about to hurt them.

“Bucky, please.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No” Tony breathed.

“I’m so sorry, Tony. I’m so so sorry. I was driving my bike, it was stormy, I didn’t see the car until it was too late.”

Tony seemed to fall away from Bucky, his hands limp to his side. The colour had drained from his face and he was shaking his head slowly unable to vocalise his denials. Bucky stepped forward, a hurt sound rising in his throat when Tony flinched away from him, stumbling further away.

“Tony. Tony.”

“No, no.” Tony was shaking his head violently, his arms coming to wrap around his torso, curling into himself protectively.

“Tony, please….”

“Stop it.” Tony snapped. “Stop lying. This doesn’t make sense. You can’t have… you said you loved me.”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…I didn’t remember.” Bucky couldn’t find any other words. He felt like he was being torn apart, his own grief and horror mirrored on Tony’s stricken, broken face. Tony was still shaking his head, his eyes wet with unshed tears.

“My mom was in that car.”

Bucky faltered, a robot misfiring. He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t find any words. Steve stepped up, resting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, holding him steady. “Tony, Bucky didn’t know. He had no memory. It’s not his fault.” Steve said firmly.

Tony seemed to notice Steve for the first time and his face twisted, understanding in a split second what Bucky hadn’t figured out in over a year. “Did you know?” Tony asked quietly.

Steve blinked, his mouth moving for a second before the words caught up to. “I didn’t know it was him.”

Fury exploded across Tony’s face, features twisting and contorting with it. He surged forward, ignoring Bucky until he and Steve were face to face. “Don’t bullshit me! Did you know?”

Steve stared up at him, steely in the face of Tony’s fury. “I was protecting Bucky. He had been through enough.”

Tony made a sound of pain, turning away. For a second Bucky though Tony was going to collapse, grief making him fold in on himself. But then just as quickly Tony was spinning back, faster than Bucky had ever seen him move. His fist was cocked, aimed at Steve’s face.

Bucky moved. A lifetime of protecting Steve from angry fists automatically triggering his body into action, making it easy to capture Tony’s hands. Tony flailed, trying to claw, twist out his grasp. He was making wordless noises, bitten back screams.

“He knew.” Tony snarled, pointing at Steve over Bucky’s shoulder. “It must have been so funny for you both.”

“Tony, stop. Steve didn’t do anything.” Bucky said, pushing Tony away, forcing his body between Steve and Tony.

Tony fought against him, his face was wet with tears, twisted by anger into something ugly, broken. “This whole time, he looked at me like I was something he found on the bottom of his shoe! Meanwhile, he was keeping my mother’s murder a secret!”

“Tony, please! Stop!” Bucky couldn’t hold Tony back, he was losing his grip as the boy fought against him like an animal, feral in his rage. Tony twisted out from him, fingers skimming Steve and Bucky lunged, grabbing him and pulling him and forcing him backward.

Tony stumbled, his feet slipped and then he was down on the floor, crumpled in a sad small heap. Tony looked up at Bucky, his eyes were wet, his mouth a quivering line of betrayal. He looked so small on the floor, beaten down between them.

“I’m…. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean.” Things were spiralling out of control, Bucky reached for Tony and Tony hunched away from him. ““It wasn’t like that. Steve wasn’t sure… he was trying to protect me.”

Tony made a noise, a low hurt animal sound and he was stumbling backward, pressing his hands to his face, fingers digging into his eyes. Obadiah was suddenly pushing his way between them all, his gaze fierce enough to make Bucky stumble away. The older man swept Tony onto his feet and curled an arm protectively around his shoulders.

“Please, please Tony.” Bucky faltered, “please just let me explain.”

“I don’t want to hear anything you have to say,” Tony hissed, his voice choked with tears, “Fuck off back to being Steve’s lapdog.”

Tony turned away from Bucky and Obadiah curled his arm around Tony, guiding him away from Bucky. His silvery, glass eyes met Bucky’s triumphantly. “Leave before I call security.” He told them sternly and then he was gone, sweeping Tony away.

Bucky watched them, hollowed out and heartbroken. Tony didn’t look back.

The dark blue manner with Maria Stark’s name hung heavy above them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait than usual. I think I'm a little scared as to the reaction this might cause....


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter. Sorry for the delay - I may have been a little scared as to how you would all react.

** Chapter 15 **

Bucky stared at the swirling icon on his phone, waiting for his message to send. This was message 100. The first 99 had pinged back as undeliverable.

Bucky couldn’t say he was surprised when Tony had blocked his number the night of Maria Stark’s Charity Gala. But he hadn’t expected Tony to cut him as ruthlessly or completely from his life as he had managed. The first day of school after the gala, Bucky had found a scowling set of bodyguards waiting for him outside Tony’s house ready to move him along. And in school, Tony acted as if he had never been friends with Bruce or Jan disappearing into the crowds made up of the likes of Tiberius Stone and Sunset Bain. With Bucky it was worse, Tony acting as if Bucky didn’t exist at all; blank-faced and emotionless as Bucky called out for him. Not that Tony had been showing up to school with any regularity. Bucky hadn’t managed to say a single thing to Tony for weeks either in person or via text.

Bucky still hoped today might be different, that Tony might feel differently.   

His phone pinged quietly, an undelivered message flashing across the screen.

Anger coursed through Bucky and he threw the phone hard, watching as it tumbled to the ground, leaving a cracked dint in the wooden door.

“Fuck.” The hot surge of rage disappeared, fading into panic as quickly as it had appeared. Bucky dropped to his knees, cradling the phone in his hands. The screen was shattered, and Bucky laughed, tears in his eyes, tapping at it desperately.

He was still sat on his knees when his door cracked open and Steve’s head appeared around the door frame warily. Steve had visited him every day and every day had left when Bucky started shouting.  Bucky wanted to shout again, wanted to be angry at him but he just felt so tired, so sick with guilt. He stared up at Steve hopelessly, wanting to go back to when he had first woken up after his accident and Steve would tell him what to do: to go here, to eat that, to try this.

“Buck?” Steve asked cautiously, slipping inside the room and sinking to knees in front of Bucky.

“I don’t know what to do.” Bucky told Steve quietly. “he won’t talk to me. And why should he? I killed his mother.”   

“You didn’t kill her,” Steve said fiercely. He grabbed Bucky’s forearm forcing Bucky to look up at him. “Bucky it was an accident, it wasn’t your fault. It was just a terrible accident.”

Bucky stared into Steve’s wide, pale blue eyes. “Steve, why didn’t you tell me.”

Steve sighed, running his hands through his hair. “What good would it have done?” he asked, “It wasn’t your fault. I knew you would feel like it was and you were so fragile. You didn’t remember anything and with your arm, you were in so much pain. After a while, no one else mentioned anything and I just…”

“Wanted to forget.” Bucky finished.

“You didn’t deserve any more pain,” Steve said softly, he leaned forward until they were resting their foreheads against each other. His breath mingling with Bucky’s. “I’m sorry, I was trying to protect you. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m worried about Tony. He doesn’t have anyone.” Bucky looked at Steve, “he’s barely in school and Jan said he was drinking in class last week.”

“Did Jan also mentioned he made her cry last week,” Steve asked back, his voice was still soft but his words were clipped, sharpened with anger that he was trying to suppress.

Bucky blinked taken aback.

“I know you’re worried about him. I know you feel guilty. And I can’t imagine what he’s going through.” Steve said, “But he’s being awful to a lot of people. He’s hanging around with Stone and Rumlow. He made Jan cry. Just because he’s hurting doesn’t mean he should hurt other people.”

Bucky frowned, glancing down at his phone. “It’s my fault, Steve.” He said softly. Tony had trusted him, he suspected Tony might have even loved him. Knowingly or not Bucky had betrayed him, ripped out his heart and broken his trust all in one go. Even if Tony didn’t want him anymore, and who was Bucky to blame him for that, he just wanted to apologise to make things better. To explain that it hadn’t been intentionally.

“I just don’t know how to fix this.”

Steve stared at him, his eyes were impossibly pale, glowingly blue. “Maybe there are some things you can’t fix.”

Bucky stared down at the phone and clutched it harder.

* * *

 

Tony and Bucky talked once more that school year.

It was three months later. The guilt and pain Bucky felt over how things had ended didn’t stop but the desperation lessened, numbing down to an aching throb until he didn’t want to stand outside Tony’s door like a dog begging to be let back in from the rain. 

The things Steve had said about Tony weren’t untrue. Tony’s attendance in school dropped dramatically low and when Tony was around, he was a cold, sneering figure hiding behind the bullying bulks of Justin Hammer and Tiberius Stone. After a while, Tony’s absence in their group didn’t feel like someone was missing, it became normal. If Bucky still ached for Tony at night, missed kissing him and longed for the feeling on him pressed up against him, for the laughter they had shared he stopped mentioning it aloud.

Spring came with another one of Jan’s parties. Bucky hadn’t wanted to go, remembering all too well that the last of Jan’s parties he had attended had been the place where he had first kissed Tony. Attending this one alone, felt like he really was giving up on them, that he was finally moving on.

Bucky had tried to give his apologies but Steve hadn’t taken no for an answer, turning his blue puppy like gaze upon him and muttering things about their final year together in school and the end of an era. Bucky accepted, pushing down the vague thought about just how much he did was because Steve wanted it.

The problem was it was too similar to Jan’s Halloween party, from the long ribbons of fairy lights to the bottles of whiskey. Steve had gone off with Sharon almost as soon as they had arrived and they were sat smiling at each other and exchanging lazy kisses. Bucky found himself nursing one drink, feeling glum and alone.

He was looking down into his half-empty cup when someone jolted hard against his side. He wobbled, drink splashing down his front.

Bucky got to his feet with a curse. The girl who’d bumped into him stuttered a nervous apology, her wide-eyed stare deflating his anger. He waved her off and dropped the empty cup to the table, deciding this was a sign that he should go home. Bucky wasn’t sure exactly what expression was on his face, but the crowds of partygoers parted like melted butter, revealing a snaking path through the living room.

To the left of him, Tiberius Stone was holding court, his cheeks tinted red from alcohol and his eyes gleaming in the artificial light.

“Yeah, well everyone always knew he fucking easy.” Tiberius Stone’s sneering voice was met with a chorus of laughter, echoing as Bucky took another step towards the front door. “Stark just got right on his knees for me.”

Bucky stopped abruptly as an understanding of the group’s snickering conversation finally dawned. He spun around, meeting Tiberius’ eyes. The other boy’s eyes were so pale they seemed almost colourless; they reminded Bucky of a snake’s eyes except that was probably insulting to a snake.

“You want something, Barnes.”

“Tony wouldn’t touch you with a fucking barge pole.” He hissed.

Tiberius glanced over at his friends and they sniggered, glowering at Bucky. Tiberius stood up, stepping closer until he and Bucky were nose to nose.

“Jealous Barnes? He was all over me like a cheap whore as soon as he dumped your arse.” Tiberius sneered, stepped closer until he was close enough that Bucky could smell the stale beer on his breath. Tiberius smirked, his teeth flashed, white and sharp in his mouth. “Are you angry that he dumped you or angry that you didn’t get to tap him before he did? He’s good at it, lots of practice.”

Bucky let his fist fly, feeling violently satisfied by the crunch of Tiberius’s nose. Tiberius staggered backward, making a shocked, disgusted noise, his nose already leaking blood.  His friends had stood up at Bucky’s first punch and they circled, grabbing and pulling.

For a moment Bucky fought them off, feral with rage that had building for the past three months. But there was too many of them and within minutes they had forced him down onto his knees, dragging his arms behind his back at excruciating angles. Bucky’s eyes were swelling and one of Tiberius’ lackey had got a lucky shot at his mouth, making blood fill his mouth and coat his teeth ghoulishly.

“Stupid move Barnes,” Tiberius said, and Bucky grinned wildly up him, grimly vindicated by the new nasally tone of his voice. Tiberius kicked Bucky, his boot slamming up hard into is stomach and then again, higher, the force of the blow rocking up into the space beneath Bucky’s ribs. Bucky gagged slumping in between the arms holding. Another blow landed on his head, leaving a faint bell sound ringing in his ears sickly.

“Get the fuck off him, Ty.”

Cold fingers were prying at the hands holding his arms, peeling them off him. Bucky was still winded; dizzy from nausea and he barely understood the fast-paced hissing conversation going on above him. Suddenly the boys holding him let go and he fell to the carpet, drink, and violence making him hit the ground hard.

“Fuck sake.”

Bucky found himself dragged roughly upright, his arm slung over narrow shoulders and tugged through the crowd of people staring at him. They tumbled outside and Bucky was dropped onto a chair. He glanced up to thank his rescuer, his voice dying when he caught sight of Tony’s agitated face staring down at him.

“Tony.” Bucky tried to stand up but his legs wouldn’t cooperate and he did little more than wobble on his chair.

“What the fuck were you thinking punching Tiberius?” Tony hissed, pushing Bucky back into his chair hard. Tony face was furious, his eyes flashing, his mouth twisting and moving as if he was trying to hold back a stream of words caught behind his teeth.

Tony was still so beautiful. It had been so long since Bucky had been this close to him, even longer since he had seen anything but emptiness in Tony’s eyes.  Bucky wanted to touch him, to hold his face, to press his thumbs into the soft skin of his cheeks and draw him close.

“He was talking shit about you.”

“He always talks shit, that’s Tiberius’ thing.” Tony snarled down at him.

Bucky sighed, “I know, but I just…” Bucky trailed off, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to express his sorrow and his guilt. How to explain how much he missed Tony, that he was sorry and he would do anything to change things.

Tony seemed to physically deflate; he sank down into a chair opposite Barnes. Without his fury, he looked small, thinner than the last time Bucky had seen him and exhausted. Bucky wanted to sooth the dark purple circles beneath Tony’s eyes, he ached at seeing him so worn down.

“Tony, I’m-“

“Don’t.” Tony cut him off sharply, “Please don’t.”

Bucky reached for his hand and Tony pulled away but didn’t stop Bucky from resting his hand on his leg, curling his fingers around the narrow width of Tony’s knee. Tony was looking down at Bucky’s hand, eyes shining, quivering in the flickering outdoor light.

“You know we argued that night.” Tony was still looking at Bucky’s hand, eyes downwards; he spoke so quietly that Bucky had to strain to hear him. “I was being a brat and Howard was being an asshole and he was still so mad when he left.” Tony rubbed at his face. “For a whole year, I kept thinking that if I hadn’t argued with him he wouldn’t have been mad, that he would have taken more care when driving.”

“Tony, oh Tony.” Bucky couldn’t stop himself, he fell out of his chair, kneeling at Tony’s feet. His hands cupped Tony’s face, rubbing at his hollowed cheeks, brushing away the tears that started to fall through his fingertips. Tony met his eyes and cried harder, sobs wracking his back, hunching him over. Bucky curled up over him, holding him together, his mouth pressing into Tony’s hair. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry darling.”

After what felt like an eternity Tony was pulling away, sitting up straight and slipping out of Bucky’s hands until they fell back into Tony’s lap, curling around empty air.

“I know it was an accident,” Tony whispered, turning away from Bucky’s gaze as if physically pained him to say the words aloud.  “I know it wasn’t something you could control. I just… Every time I see you it breaks my heart.”

Bucky sank down lower to the ground his heart ached and twisted beneath his ribs.

 “Tony, darling. Please. I love-“

“I don’t, I can’t.” Tony interrupted, pushing Bucky’s hands off his lap. “I feel like I’m betraying her. I’m so angry at you. I miss you. I don’t even know how I feel. I wish we’d never started that stupid fake dating.”

Bucky swallowed, his throat sore. “I miss you.”

Tony nodded, swallowing as if he wouldn’t let himself reply. After one long moment, he rubbed at his face and got to his feet, pausing with Bucky sat at his feet. “I’m leaving next week.”

“What?” Bucky shot upright, grabbing Tony’s arm hard enough to make the other boy wince.

“I have early admission into MIT,” Tony told him, looking away. “I want to go, I want to get away from this school and my father and jerks like Tiberius Stone.”

“And me.” Bucky said softly, “You want to get away from me.”

Tony met his eyes, his mouth quivering. He nodded. “I can’t be around you Bucky. I don’t want to be around you.”

Bucky let his hand drop, releasing Tony. Tony twisted away, walking off on shaking hesitating legs.

Bucky stared at Tony’s figure as it faded away, remembering the slender lines of his waist, the delicate bones in his wrists and strength is his forearms, the curve of his behind and the way his hair twisted around the backs of his ear.

“I love you,” Bucky said at his retreating back.  If Tony heard he didn’t reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you're wondering how the hell this is the end of the story? Surely I wouldn't end it like this? Except I would, this is the end of the story. You should come and tell me how angry you are with me by leaving a review.
> 
> However, before you go and get your pitch forks. There may be a sequel in the works and I have even included the summary below:
> 
> Bucky and Tony’s relationship crashed and burned 10 years ago. Bucky never thought he’d see Tony again  
>  until he finds himself acting as Tony’s bodyguard. It quickly becomes clear that there is unfinished business   
>  between the two men, but someone wants Tony gone and time is running out. 
> 
> Anyway, let me know your thoughts, feelings, how much you need a happy ending etc etc.

**Author's Note:**

> This story began as an exercise in writing and completing a story without editing. 
> 
> I wrote 50k in 13 days and managed to not edit once. Unfortunately when I read it back, I hated every word of it and abandoned it the dark depths of my hard drive. Picking it up 4 months later, I quite liked it again and decided to upload as I edited. 
> 
> I am dyslexic and lazy, so feel free to point out any errors I've missed.
> 
> Please enjoy.


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